


Section Six

by terma_archivist



Category: Once a Thief (TV)
Genre: Language, M/M, M/M Sex, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2002-01-01
Updated: 2001-12-31
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:13:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 88,872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26535640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/terma_archivist/pseuds/terma_archivist
Summary: Vic and Mac go undercover with operatives from Section Six, the agencies sexual experts.
Relationships: Victor Mansfield/Mac Ramsey/Other(s)
Collections: TER/MA





	1. 1

**Author's Note:**

> Note from alicettlg, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [TER/MA](https://fanlore.org/wiki/TER/MA) and was moved to the AO3 as part of the Open Doors project in 2019. I tried to reach out to all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are the creator and would like to claim this work, please contact me using the e-mail address on [the TER/MA collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/terma/profile).  
> THANKS: Kest and Nicole for the encouragement and best beta ever.

  
**Section Six  
by LeFey**

  
"Mmmm. That's nice," Vic murmured as Mac's hands stroked over him. 

"Feel good?" Mac rubbed the flat of his palm over Vic's back, across the rise of his butt and down his legs as far as he could reach without losing his embrace with the other man. He repeated the gentle, soothing caress until Vic stretched in his arms. 

"You awake now?" Mac asked quietly. 

Vic smiled a candid grin that told how much he enjoyed Mac's touch. 

"That's a nice way to wake up." Vic giggled over the last word and brushed his lips across Mac's. 

"You like being with me?" Mac pressed closer against him, the sheets and comforter that still covered them intensifying the heat that radiated between them. 

Vic entwined his legs with Mac's. 

"I love being with you, especially when you're like this." He buried his head in Mac's shoulder, and then after a sprinkle of kisses he turned in his arms and spooned against him. 

"Why don't you do the front?" Vic encouraged him by guiding Mac's hands to his stomach. 

"Vic, we have to get up and..." 

"I am up," Vic interrupted and moved Mac's hand down to his bobbing erection. 

Mac slowly pulled his hand away after a few teasing strokes that drew a moan from Vic. 

"We have an early meeting, remember? We both have to shower and get dressed. We won't have time for breakfast if we don't get up now." 

Vic turned in Mac's arms and looked up, mischief lighting his eyes. 

"I don't know about that. I see something I'd like to eat right here." His mouth clamped over one of Mac's nipples. Vic licked and sucked as Mac squirmed under him. 

Mac finally pried Vic off of him, a smile lingering even as he tried to be serious. 

"Victor, we have to get out of bed. Jeez, when did I become the responsible one?" 

"Oh, about the time you got me addicted to you." Vic made another lunge but Mac was able to slip past him and step out of bed. 

"I'm getting in the shower," Mac stated. "If we're not on time for this meeting you know who is going to replace the olives in her martini with parts of our anatomy." 

"Your balls in a martini? On one of those fancy toothpicks?" Vic thought about it as he stretched on the bed. After a moment his face creased into a frown. "Yuck, it would still be gin." 

"Vic! It's not getting any earlier." 

"Can we shower together?" 

Mac hesitated a minute but then relented. "Okay, but don't try that trick with the soap, again." 

Vic jumped from the bed and rushed at Mac, hurtling him towards the bathroom. 

"You loved it! You squealed like a teenage girl." 

* * *

They sat in the darkened conference room and waited. LiAnn was late, but that was no surprise. The Director's absence, on the other hand, was a different matter. Victor had already slouched comfortably into the cushioned office chair and propped his feet up on the table. 

"Calm down," he admonished Mac. Vic let out a deep breath. 

"Doesn't this bother you? Doesn't it piss you off just a little," Mac brought his thumb and index finger together, nearly touching, "when she does this crap? Pulls us in here at the crack of dawn and then makes us wait. It burns me up." 

"Who could tell?" Victor grinned and tossed a wadded-up paper napkin, left over from the coffee he'd just finished, at Mac. "The empty cup is next," he said as Mac batted the projectile aside. "It's just her, the way the Director operates. If I reacted to everything she put out I'd be mad all the time." Victor wagged his finger at Mac. "I got over that. I seem to remember that _you_ got me over that." 

"Oh, this is easy for you because you're her favorite." 

"She doesn't have a favorite besides herself." 

Mac's mouth twisted into a half smile as he agreed.   
"Maybe Dobrinsky," he added, with a shiver. 

Vic gave a surprised laugh and nodded. "I'd like to be a fly on the..." 

"Good morning boys," the Director greeted as she descended the spiral staircase at the back of the room. 

"More like afternoon, isn't it?" Mac shot back. 

Vic had taken his feet off the table and was brushing off traces of dirt when Mac challenged the Director. Vic turned and gave him a quick silencing frown. 

"Is there a point to your blithering, this time, Mac?" The Director placed a clipboard and collection of folders on the sleek black granite table and arranged herself in her chair. 

"You're late," Mac pronounced. 

Vic leaned forward immediately. "Actually, I think we were probably a little early." 

Mac and the Director were locked in each other's 'take no prisoners' stare. 

" _This_ is why Victor is my favorite." The Director never lost eye contact with Mac. "And _you,_ Mr. Ramsey, are the sole reason that you will never hold that title." 

"So, is that our next assignment?" Vic asked as he reached for one of the folders. The Director shot him a cold glance and he sank back in his chair. 

"I wanted you here early," she directed a pointed glance at Mac and waited for any comment; when none came, she continued, "because you are going to be working with fellow operatives from another section of the agency. I thought it would be best if I briefed you before they arrived." 

The Director pushed the folder Victor had reached for across the table, and he snatched it just before it fell into his lap. Mac's was delivered in a similar manner. Then, the Director opened her own. That was three and there didn't appear to be anymore in reserve. 

"LiAnn isn't here," Victor said. "Shouldn't we wait for her?" 

"The _other_ woman who has taken being late to an art form," Mac groused. 

"LiAnn is already on the job. And Mac, since when have you become the responsible one?" 

Mac turned towards Vic who snapped, "Shut up." 

The Director shrugged and picked up her glasses. "This is a complicated case, so I want to go over the basics with you before your associates arrive." 

A photo of a man in his mid-thirties flashed up on the screen at the other end of the room. His hair was dyed a stark white and accented with a maroon streak in the front. Except for the hair he was rather average and unremarkable; he could have been an insurance salesman, a grocery checker or just the guy next door. 

"This is..." 

"Robert DelMar," Mac interrupted. 

Vic looked at the pleased smile on his partner's face and shrugged. 

"That's correct," the Director acknowledged, a slight note of irritation ringing in her voice. "He is the genius behind the couture design firm bearing his name." 

"Clothes," Victor said with a resigned sigh. "I should have known. Mac and clothes." 

"That blue linen shirt I gave you at Christmas was a DelMar." Mac gently punched Vic's arm when his partner only gave him a blank stare in response. "I told you that," he chastised. 

"Would you mind terribly if I interrupt your little dress-up stories with information about our actual assignment?" The Director's voice crescendoed in frustration 

Vic waved dismissively at Mac. "Tell him." 

"Mr. DelMar is a respected designer, but it seems he's an even better entrepreneur. Fifteen years ago, when he was a fresh young thing, he borrowed money from a mob boss in order to produce his first collection. He's been paying for that loan ever since. But don't weep for Mr. DelMar's youthful mistake. He's used his contacts to establish a prostitution ring that is dependant upon the underaged hopefuls who want to be his models. He also bankrolls a porn studio where he puts his over the hill models out to pasture. He uses all these operation to launder money for the mob at great profit for himself." 

"The guy's scum," Vic agreed, "but isn't this a vice case, maybe at a federal level? What's it have to do with us." 

"My favorite jacket is a DelMar," Mac said in a tone of disbelief. 

"Shut up!" the Director and Victor said in unison. 

The picture on the screen changed to a dark haired young man, maybe twenty, with soft sensuous features and smoldering eyes that seemed to look directly at the viewer. 

"Does the name Canlan mean anything to either of you?" 

"Doesn't he design out of Spain?" Mac offered.  
"You mean Roger Canlan, the Reform Party MP from Ottowa. His party seems to have a lock on the elections and he has a lock on being Prime Minister when they win?" 

The director smiled. "Victor, you may not dress all that well, but I can depend on you to know what's going on." 

Victor's smile quickly turned to a frown. "What do you mean, I don't dress well?" 

"This is Stephan Canlan, the MP's nephew. It has come from on high that Mr. Family values wouldn't look so holier-than-thou if it were known that his young nephew was being pimped by Mr. DelMar. Now, while I vote liberal..." 

"Oh that's a surprise," Vic mumbled. 

"The point being, I could care less what happens to MP Canlan. We have been given this assignment, and I think it is an opportunity to take down a major predator." 

Mac turned from the screen and smiled up at the Director.  
His hands formed a frame in front of his face. He squinted one eye as if trying to focus on a hard to capture image. 

"This is a maternal side of you I never imagined," he told the Director. 

"So which one of us has to make the porn film?" Victor asked dejectedly before the Director could respond to Mac. 

"Dah! Which one do you think Mr. Inhibitions?" Mac answered. 

"Keep it in your pants." The Director tapped a perfectly manicured red nail on the table in front of Mac. "And Victor, don't be so unimaginative." 

"Translation," Mac whispered as he leaned close to Vic and grinned, "you're too old." 

Vic pushed him away and frowned. 

"Here are your new identities." The Director handed them each a large white envelope. "Victor, you are idle rich made richer by technology investments. You are looking for a way to filter money without declaring it as income. The way is not important to you, as you are as amoral as Mr. DelMar appears to be immoral. Del Mar needs capital to expand his porn studio. He has the conceit that he can actually make art films. He wants what most people want: to be in the movies. Your money can legitimize the studio and then he can admit ownership." 

"Mac..." 

Mac leaned back in his chair and smiled over at Vic. "I'm a model," he said as he showed the first page of his new profile to Vic. 

"A model on his way out," the Director corrected. 

Victor barked out a laugh and hit Mac on the shoulder. "Perfect casting," he said and fended off the hand that slapped his away. 

"Do I need to separate you two?" The director leaned forward and effectively quieted the two men. 

"Mac will work as a model and be desperate to stay in the business. That should make him a target for DelMar." 

"Also we need someone to get into the business fronts that Del Mar uses to launder money. Vic, in return for your assistance with the film studio, DelMar will give his name to a chain of upscale lingerie stores. This will be your wife's project." 

"Then shouldn't LiAnn be here?" Vic asked. 

"Victor." The Director lowered her glasses and looked skeptically at him. "You know what they say happens when one assumes." She pushed the glasses back up. "LiAnn is at a final interview for a modeling job at the house of DelMar. We need both sexes on the inside." She looked at Mac for a moment. "Well, we do our best." 

Vic couldn't hide the smile and Mac didn't even try to stop the angry frown. 

"As I said before, we are recruiting some agents from another section to help us with this operation. One will be your wife," she nodded at Vic, "and one will be your agent, Mac." 

"Bet wifey is ten years older with swollen ankles and cellulite, and you married her for the money." 

Vic held up the sheet that carried the vitals on his new personae. 

"Ah, can we say trophy wife? She's a former Miss California with a degree from Stanford." 

"Stanford?" Mac pursed his lips and shook his head, "That's way out of your league GED boy. But I suppose that if they can teach those chimps sign language they can come up with a way for you to communicate with a woman outside your own species. And don't be surprised when you meet her. You know how those beauty queens let themselves go once the hunt for the crown is over." 

The air was shattered by the crack of the Director's clipboard impacting with the stone conference tabletop. 

"And do _you_ know how much I want to duct tape your mouth shut?" The Director stared at Mac. 

"Duct tape has a thousand uses." Victor said when Mac didn't answer. 

The Director wheeled on Vic. The door behind them opened. She nodded at Vic. "Company. Lucky you." 

"How have you been?" 

Vic knew he recognized the smooth elegant male voice, but couldn't put a name to it till he heard Mac's frosty reply. 

"Oh it's you. Great, another complication." 

Victor turned ready to greet Elliot Hampton. The only member of section six, the agency's cadre of Lotharios, he had ever met. Elliot, with exotic good looks had charm that made you believe his manipulations were your own idea. Vic had only made love to Mac until that one night when Mac and Elliot had shared him. The idea of a man like Elliot --- desirable, clever and together... the things Vic thought he could never be --- wanting him was intoxicating. Even now, the memory made heat flush across his cheeks as he rose from his chair to say hello. 

But as he turned it wasn't Elliot that drew his attention. She was standing a few feet behind him as if waiting to be noticed. Elliot was looking at Vic, the same warm smile that made him so appealing lighting his face. He knew Elliot wanted to be acknowledged but all Vic could do was look at her. He never thought he'd see her again. 

Long before he had become indentured to the agency she was his snitch. He gave her money and she gave him information. And sometimes sex. After a while, the information was irrelevant but he kept coming back to her because the sex grew to feel like love. Sometimes he watched her strip in the clubs she worked. He'd drink Jack Daniels neat and think how her fine boned face and long-limbed, blonde beauty made her appear like a tarnished Grace Kelly. He allowed himself the errant fantasy of the two of them together, but the stereotype of the vice cop and the stripper kept him from making it real. Then she would take him to the parking lot during her breaks and she'd let him fuck her in the backseat of his car. She'd give him information he already knew and he'd give her more money before she had to leave to perform another show. He never thought it was anything more than what it was; but he always wanted it to be. 

The last time they were together she had set him up to be killed. He'd looked into those jewel-like, blue eyes and asked her why. The betrayal he felt was total and profound. But within moments he'd fallen prey to her calculated vulnerability and protected her one more time. He had taken her to the agency, left her with the Director and walked away from her forever.  
  
"Hi Vic." It was the only sound that reached him. Elliot was talking. Mac was making some sounds but it was all just distorted noise. Her voice came floating to him as pure and sweet as the best strains of a blues guitar. 

"Ivy." He wasn't certain if he said the name out loud or only thought it. Either way she moved towards him, smiling. She was even more beautiful, if that was possible, than before. Her skin was translucent, like fine porcelain lit from within. Her long legs were encased in a short black skirt. Her perfect breasts, hugged by a soft pink sweater, moved slightly with each step she took towards him. He remembered times he would pet and hold those flawless breast under the soft covering of other sweaters until she would squirm and he would nearly come. There was never a time he couldn't loose himself in the erotic beauty of her body. 

She was nearing him now, her hand rising slowly and reaching towards him. The sound of other voices still echoed around him. Though they continued to talk, he could feel that all eyes were locked on him and her progress towards him. 

Her fingertips barely brushed the front of his denim shirt but the sensation radiated through him and telegraphed up his spine to a brain that was reeling from the unexpected encounter. 

_Missed you._ She mouthed the words to him, her back to the others. She smiled at him. He was lost. She was able to fix him with the sweetness of her full lips pulled back from a pearl line of teeth. Her face radiated a vulnerable seduction when she smiled. 

Before he could manage a response, a hand pressed against his chest and propelled him towards an empty chair. 

"Sit down before you fall down," the Director instructed as she pushed Victor into the chair. 

Mac had his hand on the back of the chair next to Vic but Ivy slipped into it before Mac had a chance to turn it. He stood and stared for a moment, his lips moving into the beginning of a protest when Elliot took his arm. 

Mac shook him off and ignored the gesture Elliot made towards one of the empty chairs. 

"He's my partner," Mac told him. 

"I'm your partner on this one." Elliot rocked the empty chair a bit and swiveled it towards Mac. "Get used to it," he threw over his shoulder as he stepped around the other chair and sat down. 

"Mac, sit down," the Director instructed. 

Reluctantly, Mac took a seat but kept his gaze fixed on Victor who sat silently studying his fingertips until Ivy touched him. 

At her touch Vic jerked his head up. He stared for a moment at her fingers resting gently on his arm. 

"You're in Section Six?" Vic looked at Ivy for only a second, then turned to the Director, his face a mask of confused desperation. "You put her in Section Six?" 

"That would make you an Agency whore," Mac chimed in, his bright smile betrayed by a bitter tone. 

"Mac, shut up," Elliot snapped. 

"Oh, excuse me," Mac made an exaggerated gesture of apology with one hand over his heart. "That would make the _two_ of you agency whores. I've met this whore," he gestured towards Elliot, "but I haven't met this one." 

"Mac, knock it off!" Vic threatened. 

Mac gave a disgusted laugh. "I'm not saying anything you haven't said first. You're the one who told me what Elliot was. You told me Section _Sex_ ," he made quotation marks in the air with his fingers, "as you called it, had a bunch of operatives that whored themselves." 

"Mr. Ramsey!" The Director's voice cut off the next words Mac was about to speak. "You are just too talkative today for everyone's good, especially your own. Agents from Section Six have particular talents just as you do. Although yours are much more difficult to discern. Because of the nature of this case, I have brought in experts who will see that you two lambs don't get eaten by the big bad wolf, Robert DelMar." 

"I'm no lamb," Mac interrupted. 

"No, Mac." The Director cocked her head and gave an annoyed sigh. "You're more like a horse's ass. So I'm sending them with you to protect your ass. Thank me later. You know Elliot. This is Ivy Moen." 

Mac blinked for a moment as the name registered. "This is Ivy --- the Ivy? Poison Ivy who set you up to be killed by the Janzyck family?" He was leaning forward and speaking past her to Vic, who avoided his gaze. "What's wrong with you, Vic? You act like you forgot what she did. You have a lobotomy? You're not being reunited with your long lost prom sweetheart here." 

Ivy placed her hand over Vic's and he immediately looked at their joined hands. 

"So, this is who you settled for." Ivy waved one long fingered hand dismissively at Mac. "I never understood your Catholic need for punishment."   
  
The Director was up and around the table before anyone else could speak. 

"Your assignment starts now." She punched her finger into Mac's chest. "You go with Elliot. The two of you have rooms at the Hilton. I suggest you shut your mouth and learn your cover on the way there. Elliot has an interview set up for you with DelMar this afternoon." 

"I have to stop by my apartment..." 

"Everything you need is already at the hotel." She nodded towards Vic. "That goes for both of you. Victor, you and Ivy have the penthouse at the Hilton. Now, all of you get out of my sight before I forget that I can't hurt you until after the assignment is completed." 

They all stood and Mac tried to move towards Vic but Ivy blocked his way and smiled very deliberately at him. 

"Mac, come on." Elliot urged and took his arm. 

Mac jerked out of his grasp and scowled, but after a moment stalked off towards the set of stairs that lead to the door. 

Ivy took Vic's arm. He still acted stunned and just stared at her when she pressed herself against his side. 

"Vic, we have a lot to catch up on. You'll have to tell me how you got messed up with him." She said the words loud enough that they carried to Mac, who was almost out the door. When he turned to confront her, Elliot hustled him the rest of the way through. 

"Miss Moen," the Director said sharply stopping her as she began to walk away with Victor, "This is an assignment, not a second chance." 

"I don't know what you're talking about." Ivy's pretty face froze in a petulant frown. 

"You know exactly what I'm talking about. And Victor, be careful what you wish for. It may not be what you want at all." 

* * *

FANDOM: Once A Thief  
PAIRING: Vic/Mac/others  
RATING: NC-17 M/M Sex and Language  
STATUS: WIP  
FEEDBACK: Please [email removed]  
DISCLAIMER: They belong to John Woo and Alliance.  
THANKS: Kest and Nicole for the encouragement and best beta ever.  
SUMMARY: Vic and Mac go undercover with operatives from Section Six, the agencies sexual experts.   
ARCHIVE: RatB, Calculated Risks http://denofsin.slashcity.tv/~lefey   
---


	2. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vic and Mac go undercover with operatives from Section Six, the agencies sexual experts.

  
**Section Six**

Part Two   
by LeFey 

  
Vic was starting to come back to himself after the shock of seeing Ivy again. He walked to the garage in silence as she talked quietly, but with a fascinated excitement, about her last year and a half with the agency. She apparently took to the work of seduction. The idea made Vic angry and sad. There was still a part of him that wanted to rescue her and save her from the exploitation she reveled in. And there was another part that hated her for exploiting him.

"So, I thought you knew about me. I was going to tell you myself at the Agency banquet last year. I was pulled away on a case. I asked Elliot to tell you but I guess he had other plans." She laughed softly. "I heard he kept kissing you until Ramsey got in the way. You were always too polite to say no."

'I never wanted to say no to you,' he screamed in his mind, but kept pace in silence beside her.

"There's our ride." She pointed at a large black limousine idling quietly in a vacant corner of the garage.

"But that's... ." Vic stopped and pointed.

"You're a rich man, Lover." Ivy took his arm and pulled him to the waiting car. "You're too important to drive. Our clothes, ID, money and luggage are inside."

"How did you know about... why didn't the Director tell me... ."

"You would have had a complete briefing," she opened the car door, "if that moron, Ramsey, hadn't started acting like a wet baby."

Vic slammed the car door shut.

"If you want to get along with me on this assignment, then Mac is off limits."

Ivy looked surprised for a moment, but then she forced a smile as red misted her cheeks.

"Fine with me. I wish he didn't exist. I just mean I'll fill you in on what you missed."

"You just mean anything I want to hear. Isn't that how it works with you?"

The smile had faded from her face. She barely glanced at Vic as she spoke.

"I've tried every way I could think of... for the last year and a half ... to get back with you. I wanted to make it up to you for what I did."

Vic gave a disgusted laugh. "Where's the sign? Don't you have a sign for me to hold that says 'Stupid'? Maybe I'm already wearing it." He glanced over his shoulder, then back to her. "I'm sure you've slapped something on my back that says 'Dupe', 'Sucker' or 'Chump'. Or maybe it's more permanent like a tattoo. 'Fool,' in black ink at the base of my neck, etched on while I was sleeping."

"When did we ever sleep together, Vic?" Her voice took on a brittle edge of real anger. "You never came around except when you wanted something, like information or sex. And once you got it, you were gone. But I didn't mind. 'I' __was the fool when it came to you. I believed I was special when I looked in your eyes. I believed that I could be a good person when you held me."

"You are a good person," Vic interrupted.

Ivy pushed him aside and took hold of the car's door handle.

"I should have believed the Director when she told me I didn't want to see you again." She swung the door open and Vic jumped back to avoid being hit. "But she should have told me why, told me how you'd become such a prick."

She stepped into the dark confines of the limousine.

Victor waited; the door like a shield between him and Ivy's hurt rage. He wanted to run. He wanted to find Mac and the complicated relationship that now seemed simple compared to the one waiting for him inside the car. He wanted to comfort Ivy and tell her that he had found as much strength in her as she had in him. But he still wanted to be certain that she wasn't just playing him again. And above all, he wanted to be someone, anyone other than Victor Mansfield who let life happen to him as he blundered through it.

His skin glowed from a confusion of anger and embarrassment. For all the things he thought she might have marked him with, the last epithet was the worst and felt burned across his face.

Prick.

He'd always thought of himself as her champion, not the cop who gave her no choice but to be used.

Prick.

He valued her information, that's why he'd gone to her about the Janczyk family. Making LiAnn, his exotic ex-girlfriend jealous with the sensual familiarity of his ex-snitch, was unintentional. Wasn't it? 

Prick.

He'd ignored her as she asked, then pleaded with angry frustration, to be told what this place was, what this agency was that he'd taken her to when her plan had fallen through. But he'd stepped away from her without a word as he'd done so many times before. A simple turn of his head and she was erased from his world, proving again that her value to him was only situational.

Prick.

Victor stepped around the door and entered the waiting limousine.

"I'm sorry," they both said at once.

* * *

"He's like a symbol to her, a token of security." 

Elliot switched on the blinker and guided the Mercedes convertible into the farthest lane.

"He's mine," Mac said slumped into the leather seat, arms crossed over his chest.

"Wish I had a dime for every time I've heard you pout about that."

Mac shifted in the seat and pulled his dark glasses down his nose, scowling at Elliot.

"Maybe if you didn't try to put your tongue down the back of Vic's throat every time you saw him I wouldn't have to remind you."

"I thought we were talking about Ivy?"

Mac pushed the glasses up in-place with an angry snort, then slumped back down in the seat.

"How can he act like nothing happened?"

"They have history, Mac." Elliot turned onto the busy downtown street that led to the hotel. "She's probably had sex with him more times than you have. I understand he was a horny, young vice cop." Elliot shivered, involuntarily and glanced at Mac. "God, what a delicious image." His lips spread into a sensuous, infuriating smile.

Mac bolted forward as far as the seatbelt would allow.

"He loves me!" Mac thumped his index finger against his own chest as he glared at Elliot. "He's told me, many times, that he loves me. He said it first. And I'm damn sure he's never said it to you or that Ivy."

"You're right, Mac." Elliot turned into the long driveway of the hotel. "The closest I ever got was he told me once he thought I was funny."

"Yeah, well we all think you're funny, Elliot, and I'm not talking about 'ha, ha'. And I know that if something happened to me, you'd be right there after him. You're not going to be the other guy as long as I can help it."

Elliot swung in next to the curb and put the car in park. He unlatched his seatbelt and leaned next to Mac.

"What you don't know, whiner, is that if anything happened to you there wouldn't be any _other guy._ I'm not the person you have to worry about. I like Vic. I want Vic. I'll admit there are even times I crave Vic. But he's not the missing part of my life."

Elliot turned and stepped out of the car. He handed his keys to the waiting valet.

"Take good care of her." He nodded towards the Mercedes and pressed a twenty into the attendant's palm. "She's an only child."

He looked over at Mac who sat staring off. Elliot snapped his fingers to get Mac's attention.

"Mac, out of the car. We have a job to do. You understand that concept?"

Mac clicked off the seatbelt and let it fly back into the holder. "Fuck you, Elliot." He drew out the curse.

"Not this time, Diva," Elliot threw back at him as he walked towards the hotel entrance.

* * *

Vic propped himself up on his elbows on the king-sized bed and watched Ivy as she hung up their clothes. Occasionally, his attention would be drawn to his own reflection in the closet's mirrored sliding doors. He watched himself watching Ivy. He wasn't sure he knew the man on the bed. He was wearing casual but elegant clothes; a polo shirt a shade lighter than the fawn linen pants he had changed into on the limo trip over. Ivy had combed his hair into a conservative style with a part on the right. 

When she removed his earring her hand lingered, palm against his cheek.

"This color looks good with your skin."

Her skin felt like satin against his. He had wanted her to glide her hand down his neck, under the covering of the soft knit shirt, and caress him.

Vic shook off the image of what he'd wished for in the car.

"You sure I can't help you?"

Ivy turned and wrinkled her nose at him before she laughed. "You always had perfect timing. I'm nearly finished."

"That's not fair. I tried to help in the beginning, but you told me to get out of your way."

Ivy picked up the charcoal blazer Vic had carefully draped over the back of a chair.

"I would have hung that up," Vic said as he pushed himself towards the end of the bed and sat up. "I'm not a slob."

She turned around after the jacket was placed in the closet. "I know you're not, Vic. If anything you're too neat. I could imagine you coming behind me and rearranging the clothes. Besides," she smiled and held out her arms, "isn't this what a wife does? Not that either of us would know."

Vic lowered his head as he felt the heat spread across his cheeks. "I need to take another look at the assignment briefing." 

Ivy was beside him before he could rise from the bed.

"It's on the coffee table in the other room." She ran her fingers through his hair. "This worked out pretty well. You look like you've always worn your hair this way."

Vic gave a sheepish laugh. "Thanks a lot. I must have some geek gene." He took her hand and moved her fingers from his hair. In a moment she'd entwined her finger with his.

"Why don't you get the assignment files and I'll run a bath," Ivy said. "You can catch up and still relax before we have to go to that party tonight and meet DelMar."

"That sounds great, thanks."

"Good." Ivy let go of his hand. "I'm dying to try that Jacuzzi." She turned towards the bathroom.

"Together?" Vic was off the bed and trying to formulate a good excuse why it was a great idea a moment ago but not now.

"Did you look at the tub? It's enormous."

"But..."

They both turned as the phone rang.

"I'll get that." Ivy walked into the living room.

Vic followed ready to change her mind about the bath.

"Hello. Yes." Her hand went to her hip and she shifted her weight. "I don't think so." Her voice took on a disgusted edge.

"Who is it?" Vic asked as he neared her.

"Oh, and how would you like it if I told the Director?"

"Who is it?" Vic insisted.

Ivy turned towards him. "Your girl friend, Maxine." She said the name deliberately into the receiver.

"Give me the phone." Vic had it out of her hand before the words were out of his mouth.

"Mac, what's up?" Vic pulled the phone away from his ear as a burst of unintelligible abuse poured out. "Mac! Mac!" Vic managed to cut through the tirade and get him to listen. "Why did you call? Okay. Yeah, okay. Bye."

He turned to Ivy who glowered, arms folded across her chest.

"Mac and Elliot have come up with some new information. He wants me to meet them."

"I don't think it's a good idea to be seen with those two. In your circle you shouldn't even know people like that."

Victor gave a quick shrug. "They have information. We're meeting in the garage; no one will see us."

"I don't like this, Vic. That jerk is going to blow this whole thing."

"Ivy." He said her name as a warning. "I told you Mac is off limits." He motioned at the phone. "And for god's sake stop baiting him. He's volatile enough as it is."

"That's the whole point..."

Vic took her by the shoulders. "Why don't you try out the tub? I'll be right back."

"But I thought we... ."

"Let me talk to Mac. It'll be easier this way." He stopped her before she could protest. "It'll be just this one time." 

She glanced away from him but then fixed him with a determined look. "I'm your partner on this one, Vic. I don't care who or what Ramsey thinks he is. I'm the one who is going to have your back."

His first reaction was to reassure her, to make things right. He'd moved his hand, almost involuntarily, to push an errant strand of golden hair behind her ear. She pressed his palm against her cheek before he could move his hand away. He felt trapped. It was the oddest sensation to not be able to move when the touch that held him was so light, so delicate. He could break her in half without breaking a sweat, yet he couldn't step away from her now.

She looked at him. Her blue eyes began to fill with unshed tears. "Please, Vic. I'm just trying to make amends. I know you can't trust me completely right now. But we were good together. Give me another chance."

He managed to wrest his hand from under hers and stepped away. He was one touch, one simple concession away from the liaison they used to have. There was a time when the slightest sign of her unhappiness would have made him her slave. 

In abrupt flashes, he thought of LiAnn and how he'd tried to model their relationship after what he'd had with Ivy, and how that had failed. He thought of the Director and her constant manipulations. "I should give you a finder's fee, Vic. Ivy is golden." This was high praise from the queen of deception. 

For the first time he thought about how frequently Ivy's tears must have been manufactured to make him do what she wanted. And he wondered if they had ever been real. 

Now, he felt outside himself as he watched one tear streak her face. It was followed by the all too familiar action of wiping it away and the sniff that used to break his heart. But Vic just watched and wondered at how he could feel so detached.

"You 'are' my partner on this one," he reassured her in a flat tone, "and I expect you to have my back. That's what partners do. But I don't trust you completely and I don't know that I ever can." He rubbed the back of his neck trying to erase the tension that was knotting there. "I don't know if we were ever good together, or you were just good at using me," he admitted. "But, we'll make this work. Just let me deal with Mac by myself, this one time."

Ivy nodded reluctantly. "Just don't forget I'm your partner, Vic. I never forgot you."

* * *

"Who were you talking to on the phone?" Elliot asked as he walked through the connecting door from his room into Mac's.

"Vic called." Mac reached for the gold medallion strung on a woven black leather cord that lay on the bed.

"I didn't hear the phone ring."

"Well it did," Mac shot back. "I hate wearing junk jewelry like this." Mac tried to fasten the necklace.

"It's a look. Goes with the leather pants and the panne top."

"I never wear crap like this." Mac let out a frustrated growl as he continued to fight with the necklace.

"Here, let me do that." Elliot reached for him but Mac jerked away.

"I've been dressing myself for a long time."

"That's a surprise." Elliot sat down on the foot of the bed. "What did Vic want?"

"Finally," Mac shouted as he secured the clasp. He took the few steps to the dresser and picked up his watch. "Cheap knock off," he groused as he slipped it on. "Damn thing will probably turn my wrist green by midnight."

Elliot shook his head. "Mac, you can try to change the subject as much as you like but I'm just going to keep asking you what Vic wanted until you tell me."

"Vic has some information on the case. He wants to meet."

"Where are we meeting him?"

"Not we." Mac patted himself on the chest and smiled. "I'll be back in a few."

"We have to be at DelMar's office in an hour and a half," Elliot said.

"Don't sweat it." Mac waved him off and headed for the door.

"You blow this case, Mac, I'm not going to make excuses for you," Elliot warned. "I'm going to hang you out to dry with the Director."

Mac turned suddenly, and stood in the open doorway.

"Whatever you do, you still won't get Vic."

* * *

Vic tensed as he heard the elevator hiss open. He flattened himself against the large square pillar he was standing behind. Ivy was right. The four of them had no business being seen together. They needed to formulate a way they could share information and not put their cover at risk. A spike of anger shot through Vic. They could have worked these things out this morning if Mac hadn't been such an obstruction. 

Vic heard footsteps echo through the hotel garage. They were growing closer but it sounded like only one person. He had expected both of them.

"Vic," Mac called out.

He stepped out from behind the pillar and motioned Mac over, frowning and waving a hand for the other man to be   
quiet.

"Where's Elliot," he asked as they both stepped behind the pillar.

"Who cares?" Mac pushed him against the hard concrete surface and clamped his mouth over Vic's.  
  
Vic struggled but Mac had him pinned. He managed to break the kiss and turn his face away.

"What are you doing?" Vic asked in a breathy moan as Mac ground against him.

"Everything you like, Baby." 

Mac found his mouth again and pressed hard, arousing kisses onto him.

Vic knew better than to let Mac go on with this. When Mac became this aggressive he was nothing more than a tomcat marking his territory. Vic pushed against him and Mac pushed back. 

Vic smiled, despite himself, against the onslaught of the other man's body and mouth. Ivy's attentions had aroused him more than he wanted to admit. The chance to direct all that pent up energy towards Mac was a welcome relief.

They tussled, pulling and pushing, straining to gain dominance as they feasted on each other's skin. Vic revealed in the dynamic of their struggle. There was a physicality with Mac he had never experienced with anyone else. He felt free with this man. There was no lover with less strength than he owned holding him back. Mac didn't prey on his weakness, a need to protect. Mac challenged him with the equality of their bodies.

Mac groped at him, his hand pushing over his stomach, heading for his crouch. Vic thrust into the rough massage and reached for Mac. He squeezed and rubbed the engorged member through the tight leather of Mac's pants.

"I'm going to make you scream," Mac panted as he unlatched Vic's belt and roughly tore down his zipper. In a moment the fine linen of his trousers were pooled around Vic's ankles.

"Did you spray these on?" Vic asked as he tried to gain access to Mac's black leather pants. "I can't even get my hand inside." His words came in labored bursts as Mac's hand found its way inside his tan briefs.

Finally, Vic had Mac's pants pushed down riding snuggly on the tops of his thighs.

"No underwear," he commented as he stroked Mac's rigid cock. "The hustler look's complete."

Vic was silenced when Mac pulled the front of Vic's briefs down and secured them under Vic's balls. The pressure of having his genitals captured by the wide band of elastic made Vic buck against the other man. Mac had trapped him like this before, then teased and tormented him till Vic thought he'd go insane. He managed to continue to stroke Mac despite his attempt to move away.

"Want it?" Mac asked as he pressed himself against Vic. He began to stroke the length of Vic's cock, his fingertips brushing across the surface of the captured balls on each trip.   
  
Vic moaned, alternately trying to pull away and push into the stimulation.

"Want it, Baby?" Mac quickened the stroke.

Vic shivered as the intensity of the sensation increased. He lost his grip on Mac and sunk back against the concrete wall. His legs were turning to water and he tried to steady himself as he fought to prolong the pleasure.

"Want it?" Mac repeated his voice deep and husky with desire. "Tell me," he ordered.

Vic felt Mac rub against his bare leg in time with the hand that tunneled his cock. He knew they were both close and he knew that what Mac wanted to hear wasn't his need to come.

"Tell me," Mac insisted his breath coming in hot gasps against Vic's cheek. "Tell me. Tell me."

Vic began to thrust into Mac's grip. The movement was automatic, as were the words that started to spill from him.

"I love you," he choked out.

"Tell me."

"I love you."

"Tell me."

Their bodies were meshing in an erotic dance. They thrust and pulled, strained and flexed against one another. The movement was constantly punctuated by the ceaseless mantra of need.

"I love you."

"Tell me."

"I love you," Vic moaned out the words as the pleasure pulsed and played through his being. He thrust again and again as Mac pumped him. He tossed his head from side to side as he tried to ride the crest of the wave of bliss without falling off the edge. "I love you. I love you. I love you." The words came fast exhaled with each breath, inhaled with each gasp, a chant to the pleasure and the man who created it.

"Ahhhhh. God! Mac! Love. You." 

Vic slumped into the wall. Only Mac's hip wedged against him kept him from sliding to the floor. 

Mac pulled some folded paper napkins from his pants pocket and cleaned both of them.

"What was that about?" Vic asked once he recovered and snagged his pants, pulling them up.

Mac tossed aside the napkins and arranged himself back into the tight leather pants.

"Do I need a reason?" He grasped the back of Vic's head and prepared to pull him into a kiss.

Vic grabbed his wrist.

"Since when have things been that simple with us? 'I'm horny let's fuck.'"

"You do this to me." Mac took a step back and waved his free hand at Vic. "You're so fine I can't help myself." Then he really looked at Vic and nearly did a double take. 

"Where'd you get these clothes, Preppy Geeks R US? Jeez, I just jerked off my old man!"

Vic thrust aside Mac's hand.

"The Director's right about you. You're duct tape poster boy material."

"You can't honestly say you like these clothes." Mac's voice rose in protest. "You're going to a party at DelMar's dressed in something you could wear when you retire to Florida?"

"I'm not wearing this to the party. I've got some piece of crap he's designed for that. Besides, he's not interested in how I dress, only in my money." He pulled at the front of the soft knit polo shirt showing it to Mac. "This is how most men dress, clotheshorse."

"Then most men have bad taste."

Vic pointed his finger at Mac ready to counter the implied insult.

"I'm not saying you have bad taste, Vic. Actually you have no taste at all. So, this is a big step down for you."

"You should talk, done up in this club-kid-hustler outfit." Vic tried to touch a fingertip to Mac's face just below his eye but the other man leaned away. "What's that? Crow's feet? Old hustler to boot."

"At least I'm not playing house with some chick that tried to get me killed."

Vic felt the wind had been knocked out of him. He rocked back against the cold concrete pillar and stared at Mac. There was more challenge than apology in the look Mac returned. So this was the answer to his question, what was that about. He'd noticed that Mac was upset this morning. But Vic had been too stunned by Ivy's unexpected return to pay any real attention to Mac's feelings. After a moment he found his voice.

"Is there any information, or was that just the excuse?"

"What excuse?" Mac snapped.

"Get me down here and prove that you can make me say it."

Hurt anger clouded Mac's face. He started to speak several times but stopped himself before the words spilled out. Finally, he pushed himself against Vic; a hand propped on the wall on either side of Vic's head.

"Don't do this to me."

"What?" Vic asked, but he knew exactly what he meant. How without meaning to, without thinking, with one look towards Ivy and a glance away from Mac, he had made him feel rejected.

"I gave up everything I knew for you. Because when I realized who you were and what I needed, nothing else mattered."

"Mac..."

"Don't you leave me, Mansfield." Mac's tone had grown desperate. "You love me." The words were nearly a threat. "You said it first. You love me."

"Mac, calm down. It's just this case. Things are messed up right now."

"No!" Mac poked his finger into Vic's chest. "You're messed up. You have to make a choice. I made mine and nothing's going to change it."

The muffled sound of the elevator bell rang from the hallway outside the garage. Mac flattened himself next to Vic at the sound. In a moment they heard the glass panel door, that separated the garage from the banks of elevators, open. The chirp of a car alarm being turned off echoed through he garage.

A few steps sounded across the concrete floor.

"You don't get it," A caustic male voice said. "He doesn't want you anymore, you stupid bitch."

"Don't call me that, asshole." A decidedly masculine, angry voice replied.

Vic looked at Mac and raised his eyebrows in surprise. They were both ready to walk out and breakup what they thought to be an ugly scene between a man and a woman.

"Face it. You're just a washed up muscle boy that Bobby keeps around so you can pay off your debt."

There was a loud thump as a hard body impacted with an equally hard object.

Vic and Mac peered around the corner. All they could see was the back of a muscular guy bent over another man who was flattened against the side of a car.

"I do this because I have to," the one man growled. "You do it because you're a cheap, fucking whore." Slamming the other man against the car emphasized each word.

"Not my face! Not my face," the other man pleaded. "You leave a mark on me and Bobby will have your ass, Tell."

There was a moment's hesitation, but Tell let go and stepped aside.

"Oh that was my mistake," the young dark haired man said as he rubbed his arm. "Bobby already owns your ass."

Vic and Mac turned to each other and mouthed the name at the same time. 'Canlan' _._ Just as quickly Tell had his hand around Stephan Canlan's throat nearly raising him off the ground. 

"Give me the keys, you piece of crap." He flexed his free hand waiting for the car keys to be deposited. In a second Canlan gave them up. Tell pushed him back about a foot as he released him.

"Keep your mouth shut," Tell warned as he walked around the car to the driver's side. "Or I'll let DelMar know that you set up your own tricks, on the side."

Canlan paused as he opened the car door. "You know the only reason you're here is because the guy wanted a three-some. I'm the star. You're just this pathetic loser everyone is tired of."

Tell leaned on the roof of the car for a moment and fixed Canlan with a look that made him take a step back.

"You'll be standing here one day and some drama queen is going to be telling you the same thing. And don't think that won't happen to you, punk." He stopped Canlan as he was about to interrupt. "Because that's the nature of this business. But at least I had five years of legitimate modeling before I got pushed into this. You waded into the sewer from the beginning." He flashed a startlingly mischievous smile. "But knowing that whatever you say to me is going to come back to bite you one day, makes putting up with all your crap worth it." He stepped into the car and closed the door. 

In a moment Canlan was also in the car and they drove away.

Vic turned to Mac and smiled. "A disgruntled employee. I think we have potential for inside help."

"I'll ask around when I start working."

"I'd better get back." Vic brushed his lips across Mac's.

Mac grabbed his hand as he tried to walk away. "Remember what I said, Vic."

"I remember what you 'made' me say. Why am I the only one who says it? And why am I the one everybody thinks they can manipulate?"

"This isn't about anyone else."

Vic jerked his hand out of Mac's grasp.

"Of course not. It's always just about you." Vic turned and walked away.

'Why am I the only one who says it?' The words repeated in Mac's head as he watched Vic walk away from him and open the door that lead to the garage elevators. 

Mac was mute with anger. 

'Why am I the only one who says it?' Because Vic could never show it. At least not so that Mac felt contented. The words were the only concession Mac had gained. The only token Vic gave him that there was anything more between them than their last encounter. 

Mac had again been a target of the famous Mansfield temper. He knew he spent too much of their time together appeasing his partner's hot-headed nature. If he didn't, the temper flashed and Vic was gone. 

Now, as he stood in the dark recesses of the hotel garage, he was abandoned once again. There had been life before Vic. The choice he'd made, and challenged Vic with just minutes before, didn't seem all that worthwhile now.

"You've walked away from me for the last time." 

* * *

Vic had forgotten the card key to his suite. The same card that operated the elevators. He was furious by the time he'd climbed the three flights from the lower level of the garage and exited into the hotel's posh lobby. After what seemed an endless wait in line, while an overdressed matron complained about incidental charges on her bill, he was able to get another card.  
  
This was all Mac's fault. Vic was nearly trembling with rage as he waited for the solitary elevator that went to the penthouse. 'I've got information.' Mac always had something that needed Vic's immediate attention. How many times had he told himself that Mac was never going to piss him off like this again.

The elevator opened. He stepped inside and pushed the single button for the penthouse. The door closed.

"Fuck you, Ramsey!" Vic screamed as the car began to move.

Ivy turned when the door collided with the wall as it was thrown open with too much force. Vic moved swiftly towards her. She'd seen the look before. Vic's temper was no secret, but it wasn't easily aroused. She'd heard that Vic and Ramsey were an explosive pairing but she never expected a simple meeting to set him off like this. 

"What did Maxine have to say?"

He didn't answer. He didn't stop. He stormed up to her, grabbed her and crushed his mouth against hers.

* * *

Elliot rose from the bed and picked up a pager from the nightstand as he saw Mac enter his room next door.

"I need you to carry this pager. I tried your phone but you left it in the room. I have to have some way to communicate with you," he said as he took a step toward the open door that connected their two rooms. "I had no way to let you know we need to leave."

Mac didn't answer but stood in the middle of his room with his back to Elliot.

Elliot looked at him and shook his head.

"So, what did Vic want?" 

Mac turned suddenly and walked towards Elliot. As he neared he took the pager offered and threw it on the second bed in the room. He pushed Elliot backwards and the two landed on the first bed. It only took a moment for Mac to capture the astonished man's mouth with his own. 

* * *

FANDOM: Once A Thief  
PAIRING: Vic/Mac/others  
RATING: NC-17 M/M Sex and Language  
STATUS: WIP  
FEEDBACK: Please! [email removed]  
DISCLAIMER: They belong to John Woo and Alliance.  
THANKS: One again,Kest and Nicole for the encouragement and the best beta ever!  
SUMMARY: Vic and Mac go undercover with operatives from Section Six, the agencies sexual experts.   
ARCHIVE: RatB, Calculated Risks http://denofsin.slashcity.tv/~lefey   
---


	3. 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vic and Mac go undercover with operatives from Section Six, the agencies sexual experts.

  
**Section Six**

Part Three   
by LeFey 

  
"Mac!" Elliot struggled to move from under him. They were a match for each other physically but Mac had grabbed the element of surprise. He rolled with him as Elliot tossed and turned on the bed trying to dislodge him. All the while Mac pressed home hard kisses that knocked their teeth together when Elliot tried to protest.

"What the hell are you doing?" Elliot yelled as he forced his face away from Mac's.

"You like... my... mouth." Mac panted between words. "You always said... you liked my mouth."

"I like Vic," Elliot managed as he wormed his hands up from where Mac had them pinned to his sides. "And I'm not going to let you use me to hurt him."

He raised one leg and managed to tip Mac. A quick shove and Mac Ramsey was sprawled on the floor between the two beds.

Elliot rolled off the bed in the opposite direction and stood, gingerly touching the fingertips of one hand to his mouth.

"I think you split my lip." He held out his fingers and examined them. When there was no blood visible he touched his lip a few more times till he was reassured that the skin wasn't broken.

The stress from the sudden and unexpected attack was quickly turning into anger. Then he looked at Mac.

Motionless, like a large doll tossed aside by a child who was bored with him, Mac sat slouched on the floor between the beds. Head bent, he barely breathed despite the recent struggle.

Elliot eyed him cautiously as he continued to take stock of his throbbing lower lip. It was odd to see him like this. Mac was always up, in your face, energized and mouthy. But Elliot held back. How did he know this wasn't a scam? Mac was a thief and a con artist, capable of as much deception as Elliot was. But Mac's shoulders drooped a little more and he took on the look of a beaten dog.

'You've been at this too long,' Elliot chastised himself. 'Not all emotion is faked.'

He rounded the bed and sat down at the foot.

"So... what happened?"

After a long silence Mac finally shrugged. It was a tight, minimal gesture that explained nothing.

"Did Vic tell you anything about the case, or did he just want to see you?"

Mac barked out a harsh laugh.

"That's the funny part," Mac said without looking up. "I called him. Yeah, I lied to you, but you should expect that by now." He was silent again except for a long exhalation of air that was nearly a sigh.

"Did he get mad at you for that?" Elliot bent forward. He rested his arms on his legs and leaned towards Mac. If he showed enough interest, or could make eye contact, maybe it would draw some sort of reaction from his melancholy partner.

"Mac?"

"Being around you made me wonder what it would be like to do it with you." Mac answered with little conviction. "Maybe I just want you." 

Elliot leaned back and touched his sore lower lip.

"And maybe if I put on spiked heels and too much make-up I'll be the Director." He shook his head. "Oh, I just remembered, things don't work like that."

Mac glared at Elliot. His eyes narrowed into a challenging frown. "You've got it made, don't you?" The crisp Ramsey edge was coming back into his tone. "Your biggest problem is coming up with another smart-ass remark."

Elliot knelt beside Mac. His voice dropped to a low confidential whisper.

"My biggest problem is I have a partner who doesn't have his head in the game. If you can't be here one hundred percent, I'll call the Director right now and tell her we're coming in."

"Oh, you'd like that wouldn't you?" Mac pushed Elliot back and stood. "I'll bet you have it all planned out with Dobrinsky. What's first when the Bitch Queen turns me over to him? You and you're buddy Doby sit by the pool playing backgammon and drinking champagne while I grub out the algae with a toothbrush?"

Elliot was sitting on the end of the bed again, watching Mac pace the short length of the small hotel room. Mac didn't realize that they were probably tied for first place on Dobrinsky's list of agents he'd most like to torture. Elliot was determined that Dobrinsky wasn't going to get a chance at either of them.

"I'm not taking the blame if we go down," Mac said suddenly.

"This isn't about blame, Mac. This is about you being able to carry off the ruse of being someone else when you see Vic and Ivy together, and not bitch slapping somebody. This is about you being present and able to do whatever is necessary. This is about you being there for me when I have a gun to my head. Can you do that, Mac?"

Mac had stopped pacing and was looking away, a stiff uncomfortable silence holding him in place.

"Well, can you, Mac? Because that's my big problem. And it's your problem, too. If we can't trust each other with our lives, then we need to step out now. I told the Director you're quick and clever. I told her I could work with you. You want to prove me wrong? You call her."

"He..." Mac's voice faded out as he still stood motionless.

Elliot reached out tentatively and touched his hand. When Mac didn't jerk away, Elliot grasped him and pulled him over towards the bed.

"Sit down, Mac. Tell me what happened."

"I thought you said we had to leave?" He glanced over at Elliot, seated beside him.

"We've got some time."

There was a long silence as Mac sat crouched next to Elliot.  
He clenched and unclenched his fists until he finally spoke.

"Vic walked away from me. That's all he ever does. That's how he wins. He just walks away, and I go running after him."

A fleeting thought of comforting Mac came to Elliot, but it was chased away by the image of the other man crumpled in his arms. Mac was close to tears by the sound of his voice, but Elliot didn't have the energy to deal with the consequences of a sobbing Mac Ramsey. He'd just have to talk him down.

Another unbidden thought arrived. If Elliot could convince Mac that Vic was too much trouble that would give him a chance with Vic. That idea was dismissed by the unsettling knowledge that the person you love is never too much trouble. And Elliot had to admit that Mac really did love Vic. There was a sudden clammy heat down Elliot's back. He had chided Ivy about Vic. "Forget him, he's in love with Mac." He'd been able to say the words but never believed them until now. 'Forget about, Vic,' he told himself as he had a million times before. Charming men with kind smiles and true hearts never found their way into Elliot's world. He was stupid to think that Victor would lose his way and join him there. 

"Mac, you must realize this relationship with you... It's all new to Vic, being with another guy."

"It's new to me, too!" Mac protested.

Elliot raised one eyebrow. "You trying to tell me you never had sex with a man before Vic?"

Mac turned and looked at him, again. He stammered out a surprised denial but then admitted, "That was just sex."

"You're not going to get an argument out of me against casual sex. But the truth is, you're just more comfortable with this arrangement than straight boy is."

"You don't understand," Mac insisted. "I love Vic."

Elliot felt an unusual flush of heat rush up his face. He'd thought that after all the things he'd done and seen, and lied about, he couldn't be embarrassed anymore. The raw intensity in Mac's eyes and the vulnerable admission of one person's love for another was almost more than Elliot could deal with. He'd heard I love you from countless people. It had always been something he'd drawn from his marks in order to gain the advantage. That had been his job for the last ten years, make them love you. He was the best at it, but the real thing still scared him.

"I've only loved two people in my life," Mac ticked them off on his fingers, "LiAnn and Vic."

"Shouldn't there be three?" Elliot asked as anger rose in him. 

"Who?"

"LiAnn, Vic and Mac Ramsey? Not necessarily in that order." 

"Christ!" Mac was up and pacing again. "What? Do you and Vic share notes or something? That's all I ever hear. You're so self-centered. You're so fucking selfish." Mac stopped suddenly and pounded his finger into his own chest to emphasis each word. "I'm not the one who has to have everything my way or I walk!"

Elliot had the nearly uncontrollable desire to poke at this open wound. He knew, however, that indulging his anger had just made things that much worse. He had to calm Mac, and get them ready to leave.

"Mac, what the hell do you want? You've got a physically beautiful, previously straight guy who's so taken with you that he has no qualms about admitting he's your boyfriend. In my world that's pretty much a Nobel Prize. Yet you're so damn needy that you... ."

"If I'm needy it's because of Vic," Mac bellowed. He looked away from Elliot. His voice was quiet and sad as he confessed. "He has qualms. I hear it all the time. He's always just one miss-step away from leaving me. I treat him the best way I know how." He shot Elliot a skeptical look to keep him quiet. "The only way I know how. But it's like I'm never enough."

"Mac," Elliot stood and covered the few steps between them. He hesitated to touch the other man, as he sensed the gesture would be rebuked. "If it hadn't been Ivy, it would have been someone else. There is always going to be a woman to remind him of how it used to be. He wasn't a gay man looking for another man. You happened to him Mac, and he never expected that. He's still trying to deal with it."

Elliot grabbed the silent Mac and shook him out of frustration. "You know how fucking special that makes you?"

Mac allowed the action and stood silently in Elliot's grasp. Finally, he moved away.

"I know how much it hurts," he said quietly and turned to look at Elliot.

"He's yours, Mac." Elliot shrugged. "All you have to do is accept that and make Vic think it's his idea. That shouldn't be hard for somebody like you."

"You think I'm that easy?" Mac asked, a sarcastic smile faint upon his lips. "Just play the ego card and I bend over?" Mac frowned but then shrugged his agreement. "Maybe. And maybe I just took advice from an arrogant prick."

"I'm almost certain that there's a yes in there somewhere." Elliot patted the other man on the back. "Will you be ready to go in a few minutes?"

"Yeah. Sure." Mac pulled the silver panne velvet shirt off as he walked towards the door to his room. "I just want to wash up." He stood in the doorway for a moment and looked back at Elliot. "You don't have to worry about me being your partner. I have a rep. Ask anyone. I always give one hundred and ten percent."

"One hundred percent is all I'm asking." Elliot smiled as Mac gave an arrogant nod of agreement and walked into the other room.

"But I'll work with the fifty percent I'm going to get," Elliot said under his breath. There was no way Mac Ramsey could separate himself from his emotions, and Vic had those feelings in an uproar. There were times when Elliot saw the two of them together --- laughing, speaking quietly to one another --- jealousy shot through him. But if half of what Mac said was true, their relationship must be hell.

Elliot shook his head. With all the vaccines being developed around the world, he always wondered why finding something that would protect you from love wasn't on the top of everyone's list.

He picked up his briefcase from the small desk near the bed and went into Mac's room to wait for him. 

* * *

The offices of the house of DelMar were as self-consciously hip as the man they were named after. Bright abstractions of color served as art on the dark plum walls of the reception area. The double doors to DelMar's office were sheeted in metal stamped with triangles that shimmered and winked with a faint prism effect. 

"The mighty Oz," Mac quipped when he saw the doors. 

He'd been talkative and upbeat since they left the hotel. Elliot always contended that if you made someone think you were on his side, you could have them eating out of your hand. Mac was no exception. Now that he thought Elliot understood his problems with Vic, Mac was his usual cocky but charming self.

They were left to sit in the reception area for so long that Elliot finally noted, "Half an hour since we were supposed to meet. We're being given time to realize how unimportant we are, so we'll jump at his first offer."

"Isn't that the plan, anyway?" Mac asked.

"Yes, but the truly pathetic always put up the front that they are important."

"You scare me, Elliot," Mac said with a shiver.

"Good, you're learning."

When they were finally ushered into DelMar's office by a bored assistant with attitude, they were all but ignored. 

DelMar had his back to them, and leaned against his desk as the young man they both knew to be Stephen Canlan kissed him.

Canlan laughed slyly and disengaged himself from the kiss.

"We have company," he confided, as if this were news.

DelMar turned and gave them a quick glance. He kissed Canlan again, this time very much for show, and then pushed him away.

"You can stay if you want."

Canlan brushed his lips across DelMar's. The young man exuded a sensuous experience that belied his years. He was dark, exotic and on the game. It was hard to tell who was being used. In answer to the invitation he took a step away and pulled the high back chair away from DelMar's desk and held it while the other man sat down.

As he turned, DelMar became all business. His hand went out and he snapped his fingers as he demanded, "Your book."

Mac handed over the photos that had been put together for this case. He joined Elliot, who had taken one of the two seats near the desk.

DelMar flipped through the photographs of Mac. Actually, they were cleverly merged photos of Mac's face atop the bodies of models with his build, as there wasn't enough time to take the real thing.

Canlan whispered something in DelMar's ear and he looked up suddenly and stared at Elliot.

"Who are you?"

"I'm Elliot Hampton, Mac's agent."

"I don't usually see agents."

"And my clients don't usually have private interviews with the owner of the line they're going to model."

"From the dates in this book, your client hasn't been seeing anyone, lately." 

"If you're not interested?" Elliot reached for the book but DelMar closed it and placed it on the desk out of reach.

"I didn't say I wasn't interested. Your boy has a good body for clothes. I like my models to not get in the way of my designs."

Canlan whispered to DelMar again but was waved off this time.

"I'm trying to get a foothold in the Indo-China market. There's not much return at first, so expenses need to be kept at a minimum. This job doesn't pay much but... ."

"I'll take it," Mac interrupted. 

Elliot shot him an angry glance but thought he'd give him props later for jumping in at just the right time.

"Oh, he speaks!" DelMar's declaration was followed by forced laughter from Canlan. "I don't have many models who can put a whole sentence together." He smiled at Elliot. "I can see why you came with him."

"I did a lot of modeling in Hong Kong --- runway work, photography, and some video." Mac finished with a nod of his head, leaving the question of what sort of videos up in the air.

"But he doesn't do that sort of thing anymore." Elliot added "Strictly legit work." Working with Mac was surprisingly easy. They had a rhythm between them after just a minimal briefing of things to point out during the interview.

"Really?" DelMar drew out the one word. "Tell me." He opened the photo book once more and looked for a name, "Mac. Do you like boys or girls?"

Elliot grabbed his wrist before Mac could speak.

"I don't think he has to answer that."

DelMar laughed and exchanged a knowing glance with Canlan.

"I don't think he 'needs' to answer that. You have a job if you want it Mac."

"Yes." Mac grinned. "I want it. I want it very much. Thank you." He leaned across the desk and shook DelMar's hand.

As soon as the handshake ended, DelMar reached for a tissue and wiped his hand.

"Go out to the desk. I'll tell Tess you've got the Indo-China job. She'll tell you where to go."

"I have no doubt about that," Elliot said as he rose and followed Mac towards the door.

"Oh, Hampton," DelMar called after him.

Elliot turned and Canlan was staring holes through him.

"Stevie likes you." He said the words in a childish, singsong voice. "And I like to keep Stevie happy. You interested in a three-way? It could mean a lot of work for your boy."

"And a lot of pleasure for you," Canlan added.

"Pleasure and money, my two favorite things." Elliot gave them a seductive smile. "I see a couple more jobs for Mac, and not just throw away campaigns, and we'll talk."

"I don't plan on doing much talking," Canlan warned with a lascivious smile.

Elliot laughed and pointed at him. "I'm going to have a hard time keeping up with you, clever guy."

"Let the man go," DelMar told Canlan. "He has things to do." His hand went to the bulge in the younger man's pants. "And so do you."

Elliot took the opportunity to leave. He found Mac standing by the reception desk. The moment Mac saw him he grabbed Elliot by the arm and pulled him over to the far corner of the room.

"That was Stephan Canlan," he whispered.

"Yes, I know."

"When I was in the hotel garage with Vic he came down to his car with another guy. They had been turning tricks. They were fighting over who was the bigger loser."

"And you were going to tell me this, when?"

"I never got a chance, did I?" Mac shot back.

"No, I guess not," Elliot said quietly but then shoved him. "You were too busy trying to put your teeth through the front of my face."

"Let's not forget about your pop psychology session!"

"Oh I won't! The next time Vic dumps you, don't come crying to me."

"Elliot, shut-up!" Mac whispered.

"Don't tell me to shut-up."

"Shut-up. Somebody's coming."

Mac spun him around just as another man approached. He was a little shorter than Elliot, tanned and buff with large hazel eyes that gave his face an innocence that contrasted the extreme masculinity of his body.

"Hi" He greeted Mac but then looked at Elliot and extended his hand. "I'm Jason Tell. I'm in the shoot. I'll take you down to the studio. It's on the fourth floor."

"Elliot Hampton. I'm just the agent."

"Could have fooled me." 

The flirtatious smile the other man displayed made that unfamiliar heat rise in Elliot again.

"Mac is the model. Mac Ramsey." He introduced his partner and the two men shook hands.

"We'd better get going," Jason suggested.

"We'll be right there." Mac motioned towards the elevators at the end of the hallway. "We need a minute, for some business."

"Sure." The other man walked away from them.

"What business?" Elliot gave an exasperated sigh.

"The other guy in the hotel garage with Canlan?"

"Yeah?"

"That was him."

Elliot shot a quick glance towards Jason Tell who leafed through a folder of papers as he waited for the elevator.

"If there's anybody else involved..."

"There's no one else. Just those two," Mac assured him.

"And neither of them recognized you?"

"We were sort of behind a pillar when they came in."

"With your pants around your ankles, no doubt."

"No," Mac protested. "We had our pants up by then."

Elliot raised his hand and pointed a finger at Mac. "Don't pull this shit on me, Ramsey! If you have information I want to know it before it walks up and shakes my hand."

"DelMar is selling both of them. Canlan likes it and Tell over there doesn't. We can use him against DelMar."

"If he doesn't like the situation," Elliot glanced over at Tell then back to Mac, "why doesn't he just leave?"

"I don't know. I've told you everything I know. We'll have to figure out the rest."

"We?"

"Elevator's here." Jason called to them.

"Hold it. We're coming," Mac answered.

"Ramsey," Elliot whispered as they walked towards the waiting elevator. "If you don't get us killed on this one, I may just kill you myself."

* * *

FANDOM: Once A Thief  
PAIRING: Vic/Mac/others  
RATING: PG-13 Language  
STATUS: WIP  
FEEDBACK: Please! [email removed]  
DISCLAIMER: They belong to John Woo and Alliance.  
THANKS: Kest and Nicole are the best!  
SUMMARY: Vic and Mac go undercover with operatives from Section Six, the agencies sexual experts.   
ARCHIVE: RatB, Calculated Risks http://denofsin.slashcity.tv/~lefey   
---


	4. 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vic and Mac go undercover with operatives from Section Six, the agencies sexual experts.

  
**Section Six**

Part Four   
by LeFey 

  
Victor pressed his forehead against the cool, painted wood of the bedroom door. His hand rose from the knob and gripped the doorframe.

"I'm sorry," he said again. "Sweetheart, please open the door."

Vic waited for a response but he was greeted with the same tangible silence. He had pleaded, cajoled and now begged for Ivy to open the door, but nothing moved her.

The embarrassed heat that charged his body radiated up a notch at the memory of the look on Ivy's face as she pushed him away.

He'd rushed into their suite pissed at Mac, frustrated with this life he'd been sentenced to and ready to prove himself a man. He'd grabbed her up and kissed Ivy. He'd covered her mouth with his, probing, claiming as he pressed her to him in a groping embrace. He'd seized her ass, the way Mac liked, and the act lifted her off the floor. That was when she broke the kiss, and Vic knew she had never kissed him at all but was trying to get away from him.

"Stop it," she'd insisted.

Vic had ignored her. Struggle was just foreplay between Mac and him. With little effort, he hurdled them both towards the couch and Ivy had impacted with the back. Vic had pushed her off-balance and straddled her as she'd leaned backwards.

He kissed and bit at her neck while he rubbed against her. The realization that there was nothing hot and hard bumping back startled him out of his frenzy. Then he heard her, heard her scared, angry words for really the first time.

"Stop it! What's wrong with you? Stop it!"

He'd loosened his grip on her, and she'd pushed him hard in the chest.

"What's wrong with you?" she'd screamed again. "Ramsey's turned you into some kind of sick animal!"

She ran towards the bedroom, slamming the door behind her. A moment later there was the faint metallic click of the lock.

Now, Vic stood pressed against the door listening for some sound from the other room. He'd apologized a dozen times but he was certain there was nothing that could undo the roughness that had become a part of sex for him.

"Ivy, please." He started again. "I never meant to hurt you. I just don't know... ." He stopped himself before the truth, he'd never realized, escaped. 'I just don't know how to handle a woman anymore.'

"I don't know my own strength sometimes," he said instead. "You know how clumsy I can be. Remember? We used to joke about that time I bumped your head against the headboard."

The door clicked open. Ivy stood silently, rubbing a handprint-sized red blotch on her right arm. Victor stepped away from the door, giving her the room to leave if she wanted to.

She took a deep breath and exhaled a sigh of disgust.

"You were never rough with me before, Vic." She looked away as if trying to sort out his betrayal. After a moment their eyes met again.

"You were the most gentle man I'd ever known." The words were almost an accusation.

Vic looked at the floor as a million explanations raced through his mind. Some were true, some lies and some just convenient. When he looked at her again he'd decided that this was one of the few people in his life that deserved the truth.

"That guy, back then, wasn't really me." He gave her an embarrassed smile. Vic felt the adrenaline he had been running on fade away, and suddenly he was exhausted. "Can we sit down?" He motioned towards the couch.

"I don't understand?"

"I've been standing by the door, for what?" He glanced at his watch. "Over an hour and I just want to sit down, now."

Ivy grimaced and shook her head.

"That's not what I meant. What do you mean that guy wasn't you?"

Vic offered his hand. There was a momentary hesitation but she placed her hand in his. He raised the long fingers to his lips and kissed them.

"I am so incredibly sorry," he whispered, his lips still pressed against Ivy's fingers.

She smoothed his hair with her free hand.

"I know you are," she conceded, with a resigned sigh.

They walked to the couch. Ivy sat down in one corner and curled her legs under her. Vic was well aware of her defensive posture, throw pillow clutched to her chest, despite her having accepted his apology.

He sat near the other end of the over-stuffed couch and leaned forward, elbows on legs, hands clutched trying to come up with just the right words to explain something that he didn't fully understand himself.

"Are you trying to say you just slept with me for the information I could get for you?" Ivy broke the uncomfortable silence. "You gave me money for that. I thought the sex was about us."

"It was." Vic agreed and turned to face her. "Ivy, you are so beautiful, and sweet." He lowered his head and laughed. "And so sexy. I used to come around when I didn't need information."

"I know," she responded flatly.

"You do?" Vic jerked his head up and stared at her.

"You forgot the part about my not being stupid," she snapped.

"The point is," Vic said as he fought the sudden anger that flashed through him, "the guy who made love to you wasn't the man I am inside."

"Oh, spare me!" Ivy tossed the pillow aside "I don't want to hear your damn coming out story!" She started to unfold her legs.

Vic took her hand. "I'm talking about us, about how I always held back with you. I didn't earlier, and you felt what happened."

Ivy was quiet again, but pushed Vic's hands away.

"You were so delicate, almost fragile when I held you. I was always afraid that if I got too excited I'd hurt you." He shook his head. "I guess this afternoon proves I was right." Now, it was Vic who picked up the pillow and held it like a shield to his chest. "It made me feel strong and protective that I could be gentle with you, but it wasn't really what I wanted." He looked away and his voice dropped to a faint confessional tone. "I like it rough. I want to push it, and have someone push me back."

"That asshole," Ivy seethed. "Ramsey has ruined you!"

"No!" Vic put the pillow behind him and reached for Ivy but she moved her hand away. "Don't, don't blame Mac for this," Vic stammered. "I'm not the person most people think I am. I'm not the person 'I' used to think I was."

"You were the best person I ever met." Ivy leaned forward, eyes narrowed, ready to defend Vic to himself. "You were a ... you 'are' a really good guy. You treated me better than anyone ever had. Don't tell me that's not what you wanted to do."

"No. I always felt I didn't treat you good enough. Ivy think about it. I was a vice detective and you were my snitch. I should have never had sex with you. That was so totally unethical, yet I came back again and again. We may not want to admit it, but I used you. It was wrong."

"It never felt wrong to me," she threw back at him.

Victor shrugged. Being with her had never been anything but life saving to him. All the reasons he'd ever thought of for not seeing her again were just morning after guilt.

"I never regretted one minute I ever spent with you," he conceded. Her head dipped when he said this. He knew this was what she wanted to hear and he also knew that it had been the truth.

She laughed self-consciously when she looked up at him.

"You were like my fantasy guy come to life. I used to doodle 'Ivy Mansfield' on a notepad when I talked to you on the phone."

"But you said you couldn't imagine us being married." Vic thought back to the odd verbal dance they'd done to avoid their real feelings on the night that she'd set him up for the Janczyk family.

"And when you agreed with me it broke my heart!"

"Mine, too," Vic confessed.

"It's not too late... ."

"Yes it is," Vic interrupted. "You know that as well as I do. My life is different from what we knew together. So is yours. You couldn't stop talking about being in Section Six. 'Finally, I'm calling the shots. I have respect.' You said that to me. You don't need me Ivy." She started to protest but he cut her off. "We were both lost then. Part of what we found in each other was some safety from a world that scared us. You don't need me for that, any longer. You've got you." He tapped a finger on her shoulder and smiled.

She pressed his hand against her chest and held it there with both of hers. "Why do I have to give you up?"

"You don't." Vic scooted closer to her. "Ivy Moen doesn't give up her friends."

She pulled away from him. "But I did, Vic. That's really the problem, isn't it? I set you up."

"No," he responded automatically but then dropped his head and was quiet for a moment. "Okay, I still feel betrayed. I just locked down all those feelings but they came up again when I saw you this morning." He looked at her again. "They were going to kill you. I know you had to do it."

"See, that's why you're the best, Vic." She gave him a faint smile. "No one else would have cared about me, and taken me someplace safe. No one else could have put aside what I did."

"I'm not as noble as you think I am. Leaving you with the Director was only the lesser of two evils. You hurt me Ivy, and I did want to hurt you back. I think the scene by the car this morning proved that. But I always thought, in the back of my mind, that if you'd had any choice you wouldn't have done it."

Ivy covered her mouth, but not before a sob escaped.

"Now, stop that," Vic chided gently. "I didn't say it to make you cry." He ran his hands up and down her arms trying to calm her. In a moment she was pressed against him, holding him tightly and still crying.

"I never wanted to hurt you," she whimpered.

"I know," he told her and hugged her back.

"I didn't have a choice."

"I know that too."

She pulled back from him and wiped at the tears that stained her face.

"But you don't know how much it hurt me when you just disappeared. I didn't know you'd been arrested or that you went to prison. I just thought you were tired of me."

Vic reached out and took her face in his hands.

"I never meant to hurt you, either."

"I know that, now." She managed a weak smile.

"Can we just start over?" Vic moved his hands to her shoulders. "I want to be friends with you."

Ivy slipped back into his embrace and squeezed him tightly as if trying to hold on to the ghost of who they both had been. Finally, she pulled away, but kept her hands resting against his chest.

"I need to know, why did you come in here and ... well, attack me like that."

Vic glanced away as his face heated once more. "Mac pissed me off," he admitted. "I'm not proud of it," he told her, momentarily meeting her gaze. "I've just had it with him and his childish, self-centered... ." He stopped abruptly as he felt the anger grow in him again and his focus shift from Ivy. "Sorry," he murmured. "I guess I tried to use you again. Just like old times."

"I told you, I never felt used by you, Vic. You always made me feel important."

Vic pushed an errant strand of golden hair behind her ear.

"You are important."

Ivy gave him a resigned smile and lay back resting her head against the arm of the couch. "Okay, I'll accept you and Mac but I still don't get it." She gave a dismissive wave of her hand. "I can't imagine how you got messed up with Ramsey, especially if he's always pissing you off?"

Vic laughed and shook his head. "Damned if I know!"

"Great answer," she chided. "That explains everything. What the hell do you see in that jerk?"

"He's not a jerk," Vic snapped, but then took a deep breath. "Well, he's not a jerk 'all' the time."

"Most of the time?" Ivy prompted.

"It's hard to explain." Vic sunk into the deeply upholstered couch and stared at the ceiling, trying to sort out all the contradictions that made up his relationship with Mac Ramsey. "It was never a conscious thing," he offered.

"I can believe that," she agreed. "Mac Ramsey, unconscious. That makes perfect sense."

"If you're going to do that... ." Vic started to get up.

Ivy scrambled to a sitting position and pushed him back down.

"Victor, give me the occasional sarcastic remark. I just lost the man of my dreams to a guy. A guy who pisses off everyone, including you. I think I'm entitled to do a little commentary." Ivy reclined again. "I deserve that much and a big L tattooed on my forehead."

"Okay," Vic conceded, "but remember what you say about him reflects on me. And you're not a loser!" He gently slapped the back of her hand. "I don't want to hear you say that about yourself again."

"I thought you were breaking rules, Vic. Not setting them. Come on, back to the subject, you and the boy blunder."

Vic settled back in his seat again. "I don't know how it happened. It started out about the two of us fighting over LiAnn." He looked away for a moment, embarrassed at the memory of how he had used Ivy to try and make LiAnn jealous when he thought there was still a chance to be with her. "We worked together a lot," he continued, "and we argued a lot. I guess we fought in order to stay apart. We didn't think of it as sex, at first." He dipped his head, as his cheeks reddened. "At least I didn't."

"Don't blame you," Ivy drummed her fingers on the back of the couch. "After all it was with Mac Ramsey, but I guess sex is sex to a man."

"It's more than just sex." Vic defended his relationship with Mac, but then became painfully aware of the inconsistency in his actions. He wanted to explain to Ivy the importance of a connection that he had been ready to sever, without another thought, earlier that day.

"There is a kind of bond between us that neither of us ever intended to happen." He stood up suddenly. "I have to call Mac."

"They're probably gone." Ivy reached out and grasped his hand and he stopped beside her. "They have that interview with DelMar."

"Right. I forgot."

"Vic what's wrong?"

He looked down at Ivy but all he could see was Mac's face as he stood in the gloom of the garage and pleaded with Vic to remember they loved each other. Then Vic walked away from him.

"Vic?" she prompted when he didn't answer.

"I guess I do the same thing to Mac that I did to you. I hurt him without meaning to."

Ivy moved her legs and patted the empty space beside her. Victor let her pull him down to sit on the couch.

"We had a fight, earlier. He didn't have any information, and Elliot wasn't with him. He just wanted to see me. He's jealous about you and me." His voice trailed off and he looked away.

"That wasn't such a bad call on his part."

Vic looked back to her. "No, I guess not." He struggled for the right thing to say and then blurted out. "I never... I never meant for this to happen."

"Oh, Vic." Ivy rolled her eyes at him. "You never meant to get involved with your snitch. You never meant to fuck around with Mac. You never meant to storm in here and jump me. It must be convenient to have life happen to you like that."

Vic started to protest, but Ivy was up on her knees and in his face. "You can't have it both ways, Vic. You can't instigate all these situations and then say you never meant for them to happen."

"It's true. I never mea... ."

"You use that a lot don't you?" Ivy sat back into the corner of the couch. "No wonder Maxine is such a mess. It's not just that scrawny ass of his you fuck with."

"Ivy!"

"Admit it, Vic. You may not 'mean ,'" she made little quotation marks in the air with her fingers, "to do these things but you manage to get what you want."

"No! It's different with Mac," Vic protested.

"I can see that. You're just flat-out aggressive with him. You're usually passive with the rest of us."

Vic shook his head in disbelief. "And when did you go from being a stripper to Sigmund Freud?"

Ivy straightened. "I'm two quarters away from getting my BS in psychology."

"Oh it's BS alright! You don't know what goes on between Mac and me. He's manipulative. He works me and when I find out it pisses me off. He lied to get me to meet him."

"And why did he want to see you?"

"Because he had to make me say I loved him!" His voice rose with frustration, but then Vic fell quiet at the realization of what he'd just said.

"And you got pissed about that?"

"No... Well, yeah. Not at what it..." Vic looked at Ivy. "He just pulls things, feelings, out of me that I don't want to give. He's been able to push my buttons from the moment we met. I just want to give it back to him sometimes."

"It sounds like he craves attention and you don't give him enough."

"Who can?" He threw up his hands. "But what about me?" Vic protested "I need to hear it, too!"

"Damn!" Ivy rose from the couch. "Elliot was right. You two 'are' in love with each other." She glanced back over her shoulder as she walked towards the well stocked bar. "You just cost me two hundred dollars."

* * *

Elliot helped himself to a cup of spiced tea as he waited for Mac to change after the photo shoot. Mac was a natural for this. He thrived on the attention, and the whole process fed his inherent exhibitionism.

"The few, the proud, the tea drinkers." Jason Tell reached past Elliot and picked up the steaming carafe. He poured himself a cup.

"Sorry, I didn't know it was yours."

"It's okay," he flashed an engaging smile. "I'll share."

Elliot gave him back his best smile and the other man didn't look away. The guy was a flirt on a professional level. He was attractive, smart and certainly charming. Elliot entertained the idea of using him for more than just getting to DelMar. The thought passed. Elliot was professional too, and this guy could prove to be a major distraction.

"You're very good out there." He motioned at the Mylar and black draped set where he and Mac had been photographed. "The camera loves you. You have quite a presence."

"So does Mac." Jason looked around but when he didn't see Mac he turned to Elliot, again. "You'd think I'd remember him. I worked in Hong Kong for awhile but I guess I never met him."

"He might have been in Europe at the time."

"Where?"

"Different venues." Elliot leaned close to Jason, and was indeed momentarily distracted by the man's scent. He smelled of clean sweat, spices from the tea and a faint tang of citrus cologne. "You know Mac's had some problems," Elliot confided. "He's been in and out of drug rehab. He was probably 'away' when you were in Hong Kong."

"Probably." Jason nodded his agreement. "He's a lucky guy to have a manager who would stick with him through that."

"He's earned it. I think he's capable of great things, with the right guidance. Who represents you?"

The openness, that was so attractive in Jason, suddenly vanished. He looked away and didn't answer. He picked up a pair of sugar cubes and dropped them into his tea before he finally spoke.

"I have an exclusive with Bobby... ah... the House of DelMar."

"Really?" Elliot tried to sound curious and a little impressed. The sudden change in Tell confirmed what Mac had told him. The man was unhappy. Elliot needed to probe without scaring him off. "That must be a pretty sweet deal."

Jason gave a harsh laugh. "You'd think so, wouldn't you?"

Elliot pulled out his wallet. "I don't usually cruise clients, but..." he handed Jason his card.

Tell turned it over in his fingers then offered it back to Elliot. "Put your home number on it, and I'll keep it."

"That was a bad choice of words," Elliot gave the man a slightly embarrassed smile. "I don't usually cruise 'for' clients. If you're ever thinking about changing representation..."

"That's not a possibility." Jason dropped the card on the table next to the tea carafe. "Exclusive means exactly that." He started to turn away.

"Listen, I didn't mean to offend you."

Jason shrugged and turned back. "It's not you, man. It's... well... it's just a really long story and neither of us have that much time."

"We could make time. Mac and I are going to grab something to eat. Would you like to come with us?"

Jason glanced at Elliot. "Are you and Mac..." He hesitated but then looked directly at Elliot. "Is Mac your boyfriend?"

Elliot gave a startled laugh.

Jason raised his hands. "Man, I'm sorry. You're straight. I have no gaydar. I always pick the wrong ones."

Elliot reached out and took his free hand.

"I'm not straight," he said in a confidential whisper, then added in a normal tone, "and Mac's not my boyfriend. I don't sleep with the people I represent."

Jason looked at their joined hands and smiled. "I've never met an agent yet who didn't sleep with his models."

Elliot released his hand. "You have now." Elliot picked up the business card Jason had tossed aside. He pulled a pen from his pocket and wrote the phone number for his hotel room on the back. He offered the card back to the other man. "You've got an exclusive. I can't represent you. So, that makes me just another guy who thinks you're hot." The sudden blush that colored Jason's face surprised Elliot.

Jason took the card from his hand and smiled. "That idea goes both ways."

"Dinner?"

Jason set his tea down. "You buying?"

"If that's what it takes."

"Don't worry." He flashed a gentle smile. "I'm a cheap date."

"Jason!"

A man about thirty approached them. Jason tensed noticeably at the sound of his voice.

"What do you want Jake?"

"You, baby." He shot the other man a sly smile. "I've got a job for you tonight."

Jason looked at Elliot before he answered. "I'm busy."

"Yeah. And I'm just doing Mr. DelMar's business. Personal request for you on this one."

"I said, no."

"Look, Ramsey is already in on this one. He seemed to get off on you. It'll be a good time."

"Mac's in?" Elliot asked.

The other man shrugged. "He said he'd talked to you and you were cool with this."

"Sure, cool," Elliot agreed, hoping he could trust Mac's judgement about whatever this guy was talking about.

"So, you in, Jason? You can ride with me."

Jason Tell stared at Elliot. His mouth drew into a surprisingly hard line. He turned without a word and started towards the door. While he walked the business card fluttered to the floor as he threw it aside.

"Hey, man wait up." Jake called as he ran after him.

* * *

FANDOM: Once A Thief   
PAIRING:Vic/Mac/others   
RATING: PG-13 Language   
STATUS: WIP   
FEEDBACK:Please! [email removed]   
DISCLAIMER: They belong to John Woo and Alliance.   
THANKS: Kest and Nicole still hold the title of most excellent, in my universe!   
ARCHIVE: RatB, Calculated Risks http://denofsin.slashcity.tv/~lefey   
SUMMARY: Vic and Mac go undercover with operatives from Section Six, the agencies sexual experts.   
---


	5. 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vic and Mac go undercover with operatives from Section Six, the agencies sexual experts.

  
**Section Six**

Part Five   
by LeFey 

  


Victor leaned back in the plush limousine seat as they drove to DelMar's palatial compound outside the city. Vic worried his upper lip trying to take in all the information Ivy was going over. He should have had this briefing this morning, not learn what they hoped to accomplish by meeting DelMar on the way to the meet. Spilled milk, spilled Mac he should expect it by now Vic told himself. This morning seemed like days ago. 

It was impressive to watch Ivy work as she laid out their plan from overview to particulars. He'd never seen this side of Ivy before, organized, intense, in charge. Then, he admitted to himself that he'd never looked for this aspect of her. It had always been enough that she was a willing, beautiful woman that he was guaranteed to lose himself with. 

"One of the primary things we want to persuade DelMar to do is introduce us to some of his money people. We have it on good authority that he still has strong mob connections. He can be brought up on racketeering charges or made to turn states evidence. Either way he's out of the picture. There is also an unconfirmed story that he may be the middleman for some insider trading that profits his organized crime contacts." 

"You're really good at this." Vic smiled appreciatively. Despite the fact that he still didn't like the idea of her being in Section Six, he was happy to see how self-confident she'd become. He always knew she was smart and often realized she outsmarted him. Now, it was nice to see her succeed. 

Ivy stopped and blinked as if he had broken her concentration. "Thanks, but Elliot's actually much better at coordinating operations." 

"Elliot's really good at a lot of things." Vic shifted uneasily in his seat. The unwanted thought of Elliot's erotic skills flooded him with a warm, embarrassing rush of pleasure. Elliot could make him do things that he would have killed other men for just suggesting. "Guys like that, perfect guys, make me nervous." 

"That's too bad." She looked up from the file she was holding. A rueful smile crossed her lips suggesting she shouldn't have said anything. After a short resigned sigh she continued, "I think Elliot always hoped that if something happened to Mac he'd be next with you." 

Vic held his hands up and laughed. "I'd be in way over my head with Elliot. And I'm afraid he'd realize, in no time, that I was a big mistake." Vic could just imagine that within a month together Elliot would either find fault with everything he did or would have him eating out of a dog dish and sleeping at the foot of the bed. "If there were no Mac there'd only be..." 

"The babe, LiAnn?" Ivy finished the sentence for him. 

"I don't think that's a possibility. Not anymore," he added quietly. LiAnn was a thing of the past, as Ivy had become this afternoon. He was beginning to realize a sad truth about himself. It seemed Vic Mansfield's cosmic destiny was to be every woman's male "girlfriend." 

"Oh that's right, you were just rebound guy." 

"Thank you," Vic said in a warning tone. 

"Maybe I got it wrong." Ivy gave him an insincere smile. "It's hard to keep track of all the pairings between you three. Let's see, Mac and LiAnn were practically raised together." She wrinkled her nose. "That's a little incestuous for my taste, but they got it on. Then he disappears and she thinks he's dead, so, she hooks up with you. Then he comes back and starts sniffing around the babe again. She dumps you but doesn't go back to him despite the fact that they make big, moony, cow eyes at each other a lot." 

Victor started to dispute this point but Ivy held up her hand to stop him. 

"Those are the Director's words, not mine. Of course, she said them with a little more venom. I'm trying to be nice." 

"Of course you are." He echoed her sarcasm. 

"Speaking of the Director, LiAnn seems to be her special, little friend at the moment. That is yet another branch off of this messy three-way of yours. And then we have you and Maxine, who for some reason, known only to god and her warped sense of humor, are currently a couple. You bunch are a regular soap opera," she concluded, as she felt the limousine slow. 

"Don't call him that." Vic told her. 

"What? Pain in the ass?" 

"You know what, Maxine. He deserves better than that. We both do. I'm trying here. I thought you promised you'd try too." 

"I know what we said," Ivy popped back at him. "But I was drinking." Ivy gave him a dismissive nod of her head. 

"It was a toast!" Vic drew out the words making it a statement of denial. "We had one glass of champagne to pledge we'd stay in each other's lives. I've seen you drink more than that before breakfast without any affect." 

Ivy sat and studied her hands, as they rested on her lap, then looked at Vic. 

"I'm still jealous," she admitted. 

Vic put his hands over hers. "You don't have anything to be jealous about." His fingers gently held hers. "Just don't disrespect a decision I've made, or someone who is important to me. I won't let anyone do that with you." 

"I still..." She began to say something but seemed to shake it off after the first stammered words. "I know," Ivy said flatly. "I guess we're here." She said, looking towards the darkened limo window and away from Vic. 

"Guess so." He squeezed her hands and held them until she looked at him again. There was a familiar hurt behind the cold look she gave him. He tried to erase both with a smile. After a long moment she smiled back and straightened. Vic let go of her hands, satisfied, that at least for tonight, they'd found some common ground. 

Ivy leaned forward and straightened the shoulders of his royal blue jacket. "You look nice," she said. Her voice was still a bit shaky but was quickly taking on a normal timbre. "I've never seen you dressed up like this before." 

"Thanks, but it's not exactly me." His eyes strayed to the bodice of the pearl gray silk sheath she wore. 

"That's a little... well... you sure that dress is the right size?" 

Ivy looked down and appraised the way she spilled out of the small square of fabric that served as the front of her dress and laughed. 

"Unfortunately, this 'is' the right size." She untied the cord from behind her neck that held the dress in place. She let it droop a little and re-arranged herself into the small amount of slack she could manage to make before she retied it. "DelMar creates great men's clothes, but he has no idea what a real woman's body looks like. Is that better?" She held her arms out and displayed herself. 

Vic looked back from the tinted window where he could see the reflection of everything she did, or undid, but at least couldn't be accused of staring. His face heated immediately at the 'real' sight of her, still barely covered and completely outlined by the delicate silk. 

"I suppose. I... I guess it... God," he gulped. "It's just so revealing." 

Ivy took his face in her hands and kissed him lightly on the lips before she laughed. "You're still so cute when you're embarrassed." 

"I'm not cute." He growled, his face still held in her grasp. 

She gave him a bemused smile and released him, then leaned away to pick up her beaded evening bag from the seat beside her. 

"Stop worrying, Vic. You saw more than this any time we were together. I'm a trophy wife, remember? It's time to be in 'look what my money bought me' mode." 

"But, I thought ours was a true love," Vic said with an expression of exaggerated hurt. 

Ivy laughed again. "Don't worry, lover. No matter what happens tonight, I'll be leaving with you and your bank account. Are you ready?" 

The door of the limousine opened Vic stepped out. He offered Ivy his hand. "Let's go catch some bad guys." 

Del Mar's mansion looked like he'd watched too many reruns of Miami Vice. The Italian villa was washed with pastel blue that was growing darker as the sun set behind it. The entry hall was large but stark. The walls were buff colored and streaked with darker brush strokes imitating the brick on the outside walls. The only decoration was a huge neon DelMar logo suspended from the two story high ceiling. 

"Is that in case he forgets who he is?" Vic asked in an aside to Ivy, as they were being lead to the room where the party was taking place. 

"I think it's more for our benefit." 

He stared up at the garish tangle of neon tubes as they passed under it. "We really need to get one of those with our name on it." 

The party room was larger than most good-sized houses. One wall sported a group of six big television screens that flashed, en masse, with song videos. Music surrounded them but was muted and didn't match the images on the wall. Part of the room, near French doors that lead to the terrace, was set up like a small cafe with tiled tables and round-backed Windsor chairs painted a bright blue. Muscle-bound waiters in tight leather pants and minimal red vests circulated through the fifty or so guests offering champagne and other drinks and taking away empty glasses. 

Robert DelMar was situated in the middle of the room, ensconced on a richly upholstered couch, holding court. When he saw Vic and Ivy enter he rose to greet them. 

"Victor Mansfield! We meet at last. I've never been able to get past your staff. I was beginning to think that you might be a figment of someone's imagination." He offered his hand and Vic shook it. "And who is that assistant of yours? That Di creature is the gatekeeper from hell." 

"I limit my exposure," Vic answered flatly. "I have a low threshold for boredom." He wasn't certain how to play DelMar, but the famous designer was obviously bothered that rich man Victor Mansfield wasn't impressed with him. Vic decided to follow some advice Mac once gave him about women: "Pretend you don't care, that makes them want you." 

"You certainly won't be bored here. Champagne?" 

"Irish whisky, single malt, neat." 

DelMar motioned a waiter over and gave him Vic's order. 

When he turned back, DelMar reached towards Vic and ran his fingers under the sharply cut lapel of Vic's suit. 

"Spring, International collection. Very nice on you, but you'll have to let me show you what I have planned for the fall." 

Vic moved just out of his reach. "Tell her." He motioned to Ivy who had gone unnoticed so far. "She picks out my clothes." 

Del Mar turned but the smile vanished from his face when he saw Ivy and her attributes straining the fabric of her dress. 

"Summer's, European collection," he noted. "That really doesn't do you justice, dear." 

Ivy looked down at herself for a moment and nodded in agreement. "It probably looks a whole lot better on you." 

"Listen," Vic interrupted before DelMar could retaliate. "I don't party. I'm only here because she wants to be." He motioned at Ivy with his thumb. "I want to do business." 

Ivy took his arm and pressed herself against Vic. "We'll have plenty of time for that later, sweetie." She waved her hand at DelMar. "Victor's the guy they wrote that old saying about, all work and no play." She gave Vic's arm a little squeeze. "There's plenty of time for..." 

"Mrs. Mansfield." 

A quiet voice interrupted her. A man in his early forties was standing next to them. He was blonde, but graying, and his face, while handsome, had a studied calm that made him appear almost ordinary. 

"I'm Cal Rutherford, CEO of DelMar Enterprises." He offered her a glass of champagne and then his hand. 

Vic felt the tiny squeeze Ivy gave his arm before she took the glass and shook the man's hand. He knew what she was thinking. They'd just had one of the money guys dropped in their laps. 

"Cal takes care of all those boring details," DelMar started before any real introductions could be made, "so I can go off and create." 

Victor shook Rutherford's hand but turned back to DelMar. 

"That's not what I heard. I thought you made the decisions." He glanced at Rutherford. "I don't deal with the second team." He took Ivy by the arm. "Let's get out of here." 

"But Vic..." 

DelMar was by his side and took a step to block Vic's exit. 

"Come on, Mansfield. We're all players here. You must have certain aspects of your business that you don't deal with directly. Whether it's a matter of reputation or distance or," he looked around for a moment and all pretense was gone when he narrowed his eyes and looked back, "or just keeping your ass out of jail. I've heard stories that you aren't particular how you make your money." 

"Just so long as I make plenty of it." Vic finished for him. 

"Our profit will be limited only by our imagination." 

"Then I have no limits. You prove to me that this operation is what you want me to think it is, and we'll start imagining." 

"Cal, take Mrs. Mansfield out to the terrace. You can discuss that lingerie line she wants to start." 

"Are we leaving?" Ivy asked Vic. 

"Not yet," he waved her away and turned to DelMar. "But we will soon if we don't have anything more than your imagination to work with." 

He glanced back at Ivy who was walking away, arm in arm with Rutherford. The man leaned his head close to hers as she spoke and then laughed. Vic wouldn't have to worry about that part of the assignment. 

"Why don't we go to my office upstairs where we can talk?" DelMar started to take his arm but thought better of it when Vic gave him a cold stare. 

DelMar took a step back. "My office?" He motioned towards the door. 

"Is this your drink Mr. Mansfield?" 

The two men turned. DelMar glaring at the interruption and Vic fighting not to smile because he recognized the voice. 

LiAnn Tsei offered a crystal tumbler full of amber liquid to Vic. 

Vic smiled and reached for the glass. "Thank you." He looked her up and down. "Your waiters are getting better looking," he told DelMar without taking his gaze off LiAnn. 

"She's not a waiter," DelMar snapped as he gave LiAnn a dismissive wave of his hand. 

"I'm LiAnn. I just wanted to meet 'The' Victor Mansfield," she said with a flirtatious tilt of her head. 

Vic took her hand and kissed the palm. 

"I'm pleased to meet 'The' LiAnn." 

Vic noted the change in DelMar; the wheels were turning. He hoped to come-off as preditory but if DelMar took his actions as a weakness for women he could exploit, Vic was sure that could work as well. At some point DelMar would probably offer LiAnn to rich Mr. Mansfield, try to entangle him in some affair he could use for blackmail. That would just make it that much easier for her to exchange information with the team. 

"We've been fortunate to have LiAnn join us recently. She's been working with the younger models and will coordinate some of our runway shows." 

"I'm surprised a woman who looks like you has to work at all." Vic took a sip of his drink and waited for LiAnn's reaction to him reducing her beauty to a commodity. 

She hesitated a beat but then smiled as if she understood this was the rich man's idea of flirting. 

"Someone has to zip them up." 

Vic didn't smile back. "I'd think you'd want more than that." 

"Maybe you'd like LiAnn to join us upstairs?" DelMar interrupted. 

Vic glanced towards the open French doors but there was no sign of Ivy. He hoped this action gave the appearance of a guilty man checking for his wife. 

"Why would you want to join us," he asked LiAnn. "We're going to talk business." 

LiAnn smiled. "Isn't business the aphrodisiac of the millennium?" 

Victor tipped his glass at her. "That's what I've always thought." He took a sip. "You can join us if you want." 

"Bobby!" 

Stephan Canlan appeared beside them. 

"Not now." DelMar waved him off. 

Canlan laid his hand on the other man's arm and leaned towards him. "It's not working." 

"Didn't I just say not now!" DelMar countered. 

Vic watched the two of them and tried to appear a little annoyed by the interruption. Canlan was obviously tight with DelMar but the designer was still in-charge. 

"They're having trouble with the feed." 

"What?" This seemed to capture DelMar's full attention. 

"I've been on the phone with that toad Jake and he's having trouble with some of the equipment." 

"Can't he fix it?" 

"I told him you'd have a fit if he didn't. He said they've already started and it won't be too long till the money shot." 

DelMar smiled apologetically at Vic. "I have a special treat for some Thai customers of mine who are here tonight and there's a slight problem. Can I leave you in LiAnn's capable hands for a few moments?" 

"Don't keep me waiting" Vic said flatly but then looked back to LiAnn. "How capable are those hands." 

DelMar and Canlan turned immediately and nearly ran from the room. 

LiAnn took Vic's drink out of his hand and took a sip. 

"You're a cold one, eh? I never knew you had such a sexist pig buried inside you, Victor. Letting the real you out at last?" 

Vic took the glass back from her and smiled. "Oink," he said before he downed a swallow of whiskey. "So, you babysitting these models? Can I help?" 

"They'll get enough of your sort of help. I'm nothing more than a recruiter who is supposed to persuade these young girls that it's cool to sleep with old creeps like you." 

The smile vanished and Vic cringed. "I'm going to enjoy bringing DelMar down." A flash of anger jolted through him as he remembered in an instance the faces of all the young girls he'd met during his time in vice. Girls who were trapped into a life of doing whatever was necessary to survive. "How far into this whole thing do you think you can get?" 

"I already know where they keep the client list. A password here, a download there and I think we'll have enough dirt on this front to bury him. How are you doing? How's your past life treating you?" 

"Ivy's off with DelMar's CEO right now. If anybody can trace the money trail I'm sure she can." 

LiAnn gave a skeptical nod. "I suppose. But you have to tell me, what's with that dress? Did she leave it in the dryer too long?" 

"Your employer hasn't seen a pair of breasts since he was weaned. It shows he's thinking about boys when he designs those clothes." 

LiAnn straightened and her voice took on a cool note. "This dress is a DelMar original and it fits me just fine." 

"Oh." Vic took another sip of his drink and hoped that LiAnn remembered she was suppose to be nice to him. 

"Ms. Tsei?" They heard the agitated voice before they saw who was calling to her. In a moment a tall, willowy blonde girl stepped beside them. "That man won't leave me alone." Her large blue eyes threatened tears. 

"What man?" Victor looked around. If LiAnn thought she could score enough information to put DelMar away, Victor was ready to walk on this assignment right now. He'd see to it personally that this girl was returned to their parents by midnight. 

"I can handle this," LiAnn warned him off. "Mr. DelMar just thought you might like to meet some of his international distributors." 

"But he keeps touching me." 

Vic cleared his throat. The anger he felt at the thought of someone taking advantage of a vulnerable girl was rising fast in him. It was only a determined nod from LiAnn that kept him quiet. 

LiAnn took the girl's hand. "Don't worry. Just stay with me. We'll meet people together. How does that sound?" 

The girl swallowed and seemed confused. 

"I can have my car brought around," Vic instructed. "You can go home. LiAnn can go with you." 

"Who are you?" 

Vic realized the mistake he'd made as the girl looked at him with renewed fear. 

"This is Mr. Mansfield," LiAnn answered for him and put an arm around the girl's waist. "He's an investor." 

"I... I.." Victor stammered as he watched the girl try to back away. "I just want you to be safe." 

"Mr. Mansfield," LiAnn continued in a calm voice that could have been used to coax a frightened animal closer, "Is a very kind and considerate man who is only thinking of your best interests." She gave Vic a sharp look. "But he doesn't understand the whole situation." 

Victor balled his fist. This was no time for one of LiAnn's stubborn 'I know more than you do' tactics. "You have what you need. Take her home," he ordered. "There is no reason for you to stay here." 

LiAnn's mouth pursed and her eyes narrowed. "Considering that Emily is only one of about fifteen young models who are here tonight, I need to stay or they won't have a chaperone." 

Vic felt a helpless anger flash through him. "This whole thing stinks." 

LiAnn stepped away from the girl for a moment. She spoke quietly so that only Vic could hear her. "That's why I told you to begin with to let me handle this. Mr. Mansfield, the investor, doesn't have an interest in this and the last time I looked Vic, you left your superhero cape in your truck." 

Vic thought about it for a second and grudgingly admitted to himself that LiAnn was right. Victor Mansfield, amoral entrepreneur would ignore a situation like this because there was no profit in it for him. The whole scenario made him feel powerless. It was an uncomfortably familiar feeling. There had been so many nights, or more accurately, early mornings that he would come home from a vice investigation and be haunted by the faces of all the girls he couldn't save, couldn't even help. He knew he couldn't save the world but he still had that frustrating desire to try. 

He started to reach out his hand to comfort the girl, but as soon as he began the gesture she shied away. He took a step back and tried to produce a smile that might reassure her. "Ms. Tsei will take care of you." 

LiAnn moved beside Emily once more and brushed the girls hair away from her cheek. "Is that okay? Do you want to stay with me tonight?" 

Finally, she smiled. "Would you? I don't mean to make any trouble..." 

"And you don't need to make any excuses, either." LiAnn looked over at Vic but was startled as the music suddenly stopped playing. Then the disquieting silence was replaced by the harsh amplified sounds of someone breathing, punctuated by a low throaty laugh. The wall of TV screens went blank. The breathing had picked up a rhythm and was developing into grunts and moans. 

"Fuckin' hot, baby." A voice rasped out, filling the silence in the room. 

A nauseous heat swept over Vic. He knew that voice as well as his own. He knew those words and he fought now to stop the words he wanted to scream into the silent void of the room. He looked around at people who stared at one another, wondering what the sudden, erotically charged sentence meant. Vic knew. It was the familiar overture to pleasure that would tear his soul from his being. 

A pulsing rock score blared out as the screens flashed on and two figures appeared. 

The images weren't necessary, only additional cruelty to the torture he was already experiencing. The words, the tone, the intensity were all things as familiar to him as his own heartbeat. The passion of sex that was transformed into love and used to reaffirmed his existence were all things he had experiences first hand, from Mac. He'd been fool enough to think that the heated words, and the intimacy was only for him. 

The camera moved, with a wobble, towards the two figures. All that was visible was the sinuous line of a bare back. But it was enough for a lover to be recognized. Strong, masculine hands groped at the tanned skin and traced down to the hips. Mac turned suddenly and his profile came into focus. His kiss-swollen lips parted, the large brown eyes were heavy lidded as he turned to a three-quarter view. Mac took the man's face in his hands and drew him into a kiss. 

Vic wanted to yell at the sight of the other man. He wasn't certain that he didn't, bellowing like some wounded animal, hurt and outrage melding into an anguished howl. Even if he had, the music would have swallowed his voice and negated the indignation he tried to express at seeing his love, his life, his other self kissing someone else. 

Mac's tongue slipped out from between his moist lips before the kiss was ever met. The other man seemed to jerk halfway through the kiss and pulled away. He smiled, his eyes closed. His features came out of shadow for the first time. It was Jason Tell. He stepped back almost out of frame but Mac pulled him in again. Jason was unsteady and appeared to be laughing. He sank against Mac, his face buried in Mac's bare shoulder. 

Vic jerked along with the man on the screen. It was Canlan's buddy from the garage. What had he said about him? DelMar owned his ass. He was part of the scum DelMar produced, a hustler at the least, maybe worse and Mac held him like a baby. 

There were a few moments of inaction before a hand appeared from off screen and turned Jason Tell around. The camera followed unsteadily as Mac bent Jason on to the arm of a large black velvet couch. The man's body seemed to drape bonelessly over the furniture. He exhaled a deep sigh and then was still. 

The camera drew back to show the two men in frame. The angle of sight began to move and Mac's rigid erection came into view. The camera zoomed in until the big TV screens were full of nothing but his dusky cock. The close-up took in the minute detail of Mac rolling a condom on to his erection. The latex covered phallus bobbed for a moment and then the camera pulled further back to include Mac's hands tracing over Jason's round firm butt. 

"Victor!" A faint voice sounded in the distance. A million miles of yearning and hope clouded by disappointment and betrayal isolated Vic from everything but the unimaginable performance on the TV wall. With each second the camera lingered it became harder to breath. As Vic stared, transfixed by the horror, the people, the room, the world raced away from him until he was looking out from a dark pit that was swallowing him whole. 

"Victor!" The voice came again but he didn't remember who Victor was. He only knew he wanted the torment of having to watch those brutal images on the TV screens to end. But they didn't. Instead they seemed to slow so that each tiny detail was frozen, framed by the glaring light of the vast picture tubes to be examined and memorized and burnt into his soul. 

"Victor, look at me!" Ivy grabbed the front of his shirt and jerked him back to reality. "Vic, look at me!" she insisted, her voice barely audible above the blare of the throbbing music. 

He looked down at her. LiAnn stepped towards them at the same moment. She leaned between them and shouted at Ivy. 

"Let me handle this. I know him better than you do." 

Ivy raised one hand from Vic's chest to stop the other woman. "I wouldn't bet on that." Their exchange was muffled by the continuing music. 

"Victor," Ivy returned her attention to him. "You don't know that man. This Vic Mansfield," she prodded her index finger into his chest, "doesn't know him!" 

Suddenly, the music was gone. The room filled again with the sighs and labored breathing of the on-screen sex. 

Vic grabbed Ivy's hand and turned to leave. The guttural sounds of Mac's climax followed them as they left the room. 

DelMar and Canlan were approaching, in stride, just outside the door as Vic and Ivy left. 

"Victor," DelMar started as he walked towards them, "let me just check on..." 

Stephan Canlan began to laugh and pointed towards the party room. "You mean everybody saw it?" 

DelMar's eyes shone with panic. He shoved Canlan off in the direction they had come. "Get it stopped. Get it stopped right now!" 

Vic was past them and headed for the door with Ivy in tow. 

DelMar called after them to wait. Another person who called to Ivy joined him. 

"Ivy, please." 

Cal Rutherford reached them first. He took Ivy's hand and for a second she was suspended between the two men until Vic stood still. 

"I'm so sorry about that. Robert has some customers with ...ah... different tastes. That was meant to be shown privately and some lines were crossed." 

"Is that the kind of movie deal you want me to make DelMar?" Vic asked, his tone full of anger and challenge. 

"No. Victor, your money would be used to expand and go legit. What we start here could become a huge movie conglomerate. You could influence the world. This," DelMar motioned back towards the party room, "is nothing more than a home movie." 

"Home movies, huh? I guess that's what they look like when you live in a sewer." 

Ivy stepped between them. "Give me a minute alone with my husband." She looked over at Rutherford and touched his arm. "Please, Cal. Vic has some issues with this." 

Cal Rutherford pushed DelMar towards the staircase. 

"We'll be upstairs, in the office." He stopped by Vic. "I hope you can over look this unfortunate accident. The business opportunities we have here are very lucrative. If you don't like the current situation we'll make whatever changes are necessary to find someone you'll feel comfortable working with." 

Ivy took Rutherford's arm and gently moved him along. "We'll be up in a minute. Probably." She smiled at him and he turned to lead DelMar to the imposing set of spiral stairs. 

"I'll check on you in a few minutes," Rutherford called down to her as he neared the landing at the top of the stairs. 

"That's sweet." Ivy waved at him and smiled. 

She waited until the two men were out of sight and grabbed Vic's arm. 

"You get a grip on yourself," she seethed. 

"That was Mac and...." 

"I don't care who it was. This is our part of the operation and you're not going to walk away from it. We can have the right people handed to us. Cal is a very unhappy man. He hates DelMar...." 

"Yeah, well I hate him too!" Vic jerked out of her grasp. "And where was your precious Elliot? I thought you two were along to save us from shit like that!" 

Ivy stepped closer to him, her voice dropped to a steely whisper. "I already saved your sorry ass. I covered your mistake. Now, you do your part and get upstairs and cover our story." 

In an instant Victor had his hand raised, posed to strike out at her. He watched her blue eyes grow large with recognition of what he wanted to do. This was Mac's doing. This was the terrible realization that all the feelings, the warm fuzzy protective thoughts he'd wrapped himself in this afternoon were for nothing. Vic had always feared, but never admitted, that Mac might find a woman one day who would draw him away. He never imagined that sex with another man would come between them, and casual sex at that. This was proof that sex meant little to Mac Ramsey. Despite the way he cajoled and manipulated Vic to admit his love during the act, it was nothing more than that to him, just an act. And the always gullible, fool for love that Vic knew he was had been ready to lay himself at Mac's feet like the faithful companion he longed to be. 

His fingertips were scant inches from Ivy's throat. He blinked and in that moment knew the horror of what he might have done. As suddenly as his hand rose, he pulled it back. 

Ivy took a step away, her face a mask of confusion, anger and fear. 

"What...? Were you going to...? I can't believe this!" She struggled for words as anger won out over everything else. 

Vic reached for her. DelMar was going to pay for this. Mac was going to pay as well. Everyone he knew for the rest of his life was going to pay the price for Mac's betrayal and what he might have done to Ivy. 

Ivy slapped his hand away. 

"Get that crap out of your system! I'm not Mac Ramsey. You can transfer your anger to somebody else but not to me. I'm not your enemy." She stepped close to him. "I'm your partner and we have a job to do." 

"I'm sorry," Vic mumbled, anger and sorrow for what he'd almost done warring in him. 

"Sorry?" Ivy shook her head in disbelief. "I don't need an apology. I need you to tell me you're on the team and you'll help me nail this operation." 

"I'll do whatever you want." Vic tried to reach for Ivy again but she fended him off. "I was wrong. It's just I never expected... I didn't know what to..." 

"That's between you and Mac, I want no part of it." She smoothed her hair back into place. "We're going upstairs and you are going to run this meeting and secure everything we need. Understand?" 

"Ivy... I..." 

"Understand!" 

"Yes, I understand." He followed her to the stairs. As he mounted the first step the words came from his lips as if some other soul spoke them. "I understand that Mac Ramsey is a dead man." 

* * *

FANDOM: Once a Thief   
PAIRING: Victor Mansfield and Mac Ramsey   
RATING: PG 13 Language and adult situation.   
STATUS: Work in Progress   
FEEDBACK: Please! [email removed]   
DISCLAIMER: They belong to Alliance and John Woo.   
THANKS: As always, my partners in crime Nicole S and Kestrelsan   
ARCHIVE: RatB, Calculated Risks http://denofsin.slashcity.tv/~lefey   
SUMMARY: Vic and Mac go undercover with operatives from Section Six, the agencies sexual experts.   
---


	6. 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vic and Mac go undercover with operatives from Section Six, the agencies sexual experts.

  
**Section Six**

Part Six   
by LeFey 

  
Elliot slumped against the cinder block wall, arms folded across his chest. He waited near the front door of the so-called video studio. It appeared to be just another warehouse space in an industrial park. Now, at ten o'clock at night the area surrounding the place was deserted. Elliot had watched the few people involved in the production leave, one by one. He knew that only Mac, Jason, Jake and the video's director were left inside. He needed to go back in and face the aftermath of what must have happened. He didn't move. He still couldn't make himself do it. Old memories, betrayals and the look of pure hatred on Jason Tell's face kept him fixed in place. 

The door opened and the tall muscular figure of the film's director, Max Hardt, was silhouetted across the Satyr Films placard next to the door. The man hesitated as he stepped into the light that washed the concrete steps. After a second he noticed Elliot and walked over to him, letting the door swing shut. 

"Your boy is very impressive." He rubbed his hand suggestively over the front of his pants. 

Elliot gave him a bitter smile. "Yeah, nobody fucks inanimate objects like he does." 

Hardt's face twisted into an agreeing frown. He raised his hand from his crotch to point at Elliot. "I'm with you there, girl. I don't like using Tell. He's just some kink the boss man has. When I acted in porn you'd get thrown off the set for taking anything. Now, I've got that bitch, Jake, feeding him drugs. Then I have to work with this guy loaded out of his mind." 

"Why do you do it?" Elliot threw back at him. 

"I told you. He's DelMar's toy." The man blinked, obviously confused. Elliot's cold fury was wasted on him. "A kink." He took a step towards Elliot. "Want to tell me about your kinks, beautiful?" 

"One very particular one. I detest sleaze bags." Elliot straightened and stepped closer to Hardt, not in the seductive slither the other man had used but an obvious challenge. "More to the point, here, you didn't understand the question. And I have to know how one so-called human being could do this to another." Elliot needed to explain, to direct some of the anger that knotted his muscles at someone. Since Mac wasn't here yet, Hardt could take his place. "Why do you perpetuate the misery? Yours, his, every other poor bastard trapped in this damn porn racket?" 

Hardt raised his hands in protest. "I'm not trapped. This is a business just like any other. They come and go." 

"Like cattle in a feed lot." 

The man shook his head and gave a condescending smile. "What's the matter, Diva, one of them turn you down? You could have had me, tonight. When I worked in front of the cameras I had one of the biggest dicks in the business." 

"Well, you still are one of the biggest dicks in the business." 

Hardt gave him a predatory glare. "You're getting twenty percent for bringing him here, parasite. When you don't, then you can complain." He turned and left. 

Elliot sunk back against the wall. He hated to admit it ,but the son of a bitch was right. His protest sounded hollow since Mac had made it clear to everyone that his manager was one hundred percent behind his little adventure. 

Elliot had only discovered what Mac had agreed to do as they followed Jake to the studio. His training pushed aside the sick realization of what the look on Jason Tell's face had really meant. In a moment Elliot was turned from a romantic interest into just another agent who pimped his models. 

He'd argued with Mac but knew it was useless. They were already too far into this mess to pull out. He wanted to utilize Jason to get to DelMar, but now all he could do was sacrifice him to gain the same results. Jason's smile, that shy, sweet, and oh so appealing smile, haunted Elliot as he tried to revise their plan and minimize the damage. 

When they arrived Jason was already high. He spotted Elliot standing at the edge of the light from the tiny film set. He pulled his striped polo shirt up over his head, revealing a body powerful and defined. He tossed the shirt towards Elliot. 

"You want some?" He licked his lips. Then he put his hands behind his head and flexed, in a gesture intensely sexual yet mocking. Elliot gave no response, and Jason brought his hands down. One cut a disgusted swath through the air. "Fuck you." The words spewed out in a slur. 

By the time the filming started Jason was nearly incoherent. As drunk and drugged as he was, Elliot knew there was no chance he could ever become erect. He had been reduced to just an object for Mac to fuck. 

Elliot understood that he needed to stay close. He was the only one who could make certain that neither Mac nor Jason got into more trouble. It was a struggle just to stand by and let it happen, though. Feelings of disgust and voyeuristic pleasure battled in him as he watched Mac explore Jason. Elliot could share the feeling of power and excitement as Mac slowly stripped the other man, tasted his smooth skin, and traced the contours of the muscled body. He hated Mac for agreeing to this, but could only envy him for the pleasure he was experiencing now. All these thoughts were shattered by one look at Jason Tell's face. His glassy eyed stare betrayed any idea that this was consensual sex. How many times had DelMar trapped him into performing these dehumanizing acts, and why? 

Mac moved his half-open mouth slowly over the other man's skin. A snap of erotic heat coursed through Elliot at the thought of how those soft full lips must feel while they traced across heated, sensitive skin. He had felt that only once, when they had shared Victor on his birthday. The thought of Vic shook him even more than the sight of Jason standing only because Mac propped him up. Mac had just given him the trump card. Vic was insecure enough that he needed Mac to be his alone. Elliot saw it constantly. Vic devised little tests, almost without realizing it, to make Mac prove, and re-prove that he loved him. Mac was needy enough to keep taking them and trying to pass. He had definitely flunked this test, though. When Victor found out about this --- and he would, probably from some slip on Mac's part --- he would be furious and hurt and ready for Elliot to slip in and console him. Elliot could provide what Mac couldn't. He would center all his attention, all his thoughts and actions on just one person: Jason. The unbidden name made him wince. 

Vic, Victor, Vic, he chanted to himself in reminder. He wanted to smack himself in the head. Why would the image of Jason intrude when he was so close to having what he wanted? Vic had been the unattainable desire from the first moment that he'd seen him. Vic was the real man who he could never have. This was so stupid. He'd just met Jason Tell, and he couldn't think about anyone else. 

"Focus. Focus, damnit!" he whispered under his breath. 

Elliot looked up when he heard a muffled groan a few feet away. When his eyes adjusted from the glare of the video set to the dim light that surrounded it, he saw the video director begin to jerk-off. He knew this act could be considered a compliment in porn circles, the director so distracted by the action he plays with himself. Mac was hot, Elliot begrudgingly admitted that, but what he was doing reduced Jason to just a means of masturbation. 

Emotions, that Elliot thought he had long ago discarded, warred with what he knew he needed to do for this assignment. He didn't like indecision in himself or others. He knew what he wanted. All he had to do was take the initiative and win the prize. He was exhilarated at the selfish prospect of finally eliminating Mac from the picture. That picture was becoming harder to discern, though, with each pulsing pound of blood in his temples. His attention was less and less on Vic and more on Jason Tell. 

The video's director glanced over at him and a panicked sweat glazed Elliot's body. His surprised blink was answered by a knowing smirk from the video director as he nodded towards the two men under the lights. So, they thought he was one of them. The same... something-phile... there had to be a phile or an ism or some other nasty clinical term for enjoying this one-sided display. Elliot looked away with a kind of heated shame that he hadn't felt since childhood. He was not one of them, and prayed he never would be. But he couldn't prove it, not while his job, his assignment, made him leave Jason Tell wasted under the hot video lights. When the man turned back to watch more of the action Elliot turned, and fled the room. 

Elliot kicked the wall again with his heel, as the stinging memory of what he should have done taunted him. He should be in there, now. He should be looking out for Jason. 

"Mac!" he said aloud. It was his partner who deserved his concern. The mission, the job ... his partner, he listed his priorities to himself. 

"Focus," he ordered again. 

That focus shouldn't be directed at that wide-eyed muscle boy who obviously had to be rocked out of his mind before they could take their dirty pictures of him. He was merely a means to an end. There were lots of cute-assed Jason Tell's in the world. There was only one mission right now and there only ever had been one Victor Mansfield. Think about Victor! 

"Idiot!" He chastised himself as his thoughts had already drifted back to Jason. 

He pushed away from the wall, and was about to go in when the door opened. Mac stepped into the teal glow from the arc lights. 

"You okay?" Elliot asked. 

Mac smiled and it turned into an embarrassed grin as he dipped his head. "Actually, I'm pretty damn good." 

"What?" 

"God, Elliot," Mac grabbed his arm. "It was a total rush!" 

Elliot shook his head. "I should have known you'd like it too much. You and Vic will have to sell tapes." 

Mac's grip tightened on his arm, and the smile vanished. 

"You can't tell Vic! He can't ever find out about this. He'd never understand." 

Elliot shook out of his grasp. "I told you, I like Vic. You're dirty little secret is safe with me. I'm not going to do anything to deliberately hurt him." He knew he didn't have to. There were many ways this would get back to Vic, and none of them would be seen as coming from Elliot. 

Mac smiled with relief. "Thanks, man." Then he gave Elliot a skeptical look. "You really do like him. I mean I know you think he'd hot. And to be honest, I don't trust you alone with him." 

Elliot only shrugged in reply. Maybe Mac wasn't so preoccupied with himself that he couldn't see the truth. 

"But I know there's more." The words came very close to a challenge. "You like who he is. And that's what scares the hell out of me." 

Elliot stared at him for a moment and considered laying out his whole plan, his seductions, his stealth, and finally the theft of Victor Mansfield's heart. This wasn't the time or place. Mac was high off his performance sex, and Elliot felt a little dirty for having had to witness it. But still the thought of what he could do flickered with a cold flame in the back of his mind. He decided it wasn't worth the effort. Doe eyed Victor wouldn't be in love with this mouthy over-grown kid once he found out how much Mac liked to have sex while other people watched. 

"You tell me," he asked Mac after he exhaled a longing sigh, "what's not to like about Victor?" 

"Not that much." Mac looked down for a moment and his eyes were cheerless when he looked back. "That's what makes it so bad when he walks away." Mac shook his head. "I shouldn't have done this." 

"No kidding! I wished you'd actually talked to me before you said yes. I could have maneuvered our way out of this. I wanted to get close to Jason. He must know a lot about DelMar's organization. Now, he thinks I'm just another scum manager. It must have been pretty damn obvious to you that he didn't want to do this." 

Mac nodded a guilty agreement. "That's why he got so loaded, I guess." 

"Where is he now?" 

"Last time I saw him he was sitting in the back, barely awake. Jake said he would take care of him." 

"You believe that?" 

"No." Mac reached for the door. "We better go check on him." 

The door was opened before he could touch it, and Jake came out, keys in hand. He looked a bit startled when he saw the two of them. 

"You guys are still here? You need to follow me out?" 

"Where's Jason?" Elliot demanded. 

"He's inside." Jake slipped his key in the lock. "We let him sleep it off here. He leaves when he wakes up." 

"He came with you," Mac's voice rose in protest, "How the hell is he going to get home?" 

Jake shrugged off the concern. "He finds a way. There's a phone in there. He's done it before." 

The night had been a car crash for Elliot. He felt like he had survived a wreck but at the cost of smashed feelings and reactions scattered in torn pieces across this emotional accident scene. This wasn't Elliot the Section Six agent. He didn't know who the hell he was tonight. But slowly, as he stared at Jake, who showed nothing but indifference, Elliot fell back on the tricks that allowed him to do his work. In others it could be called compartmentalizing. The first time Elliot had heard the term kill-switch he knew that was what his trick must be. He shut off or killed the anger, the outrage, or emotions that might get in the way of his completing his assignment. That was the thing that kicked in now and kept him from killing Jake where he stood. 

"We'll take Jason with us." Elliot looked at Mac who nodded. 

Mac pushed Jake aside, and had the door open in a moment. 

"Hey! I'm not waiting around for him." Jake said as he stepped back to avoid being shoved aside. "I've got a date." 

They left him standing outside as the door swung shut. 

A few exit signs gave faint light as Mac and Elliot navigated their way through the darkened building. 

"He's back here, someplace." Mac said as he groped along a wall. 

There was a click and a light flashed overhead when he found a switch. 

Elliot blinked and his eyes focused quickly to the light. The first thing he saw was a lumpy chair. A second later he identified it as an unconscious, naked Jason Tell sprawled in a tattered chair. His head lolled to one side, mouth open, and he gasped more than he breathed. 

Elliot rushed over to him and knelt by his side. He'd seen this before. The kill-switch clamped down tighter on his memories, and let him go on auto. He reached for Jason's wrist and checked the pulse. 

"Did you see what he took?" He asked Mac. 

"Not really, just pills that Jake kept giving him." 

"So this wasn't his idea. They drugged him." 

"Yeah. Well, I got the impression it was mutual. I don't think he would have done the video without the drugs." Mac gathered up Jason's clothes, and stood beside Elliot. "You were right. He didn't want to do this." 

Elliot took a t-shirt out of Mac's outstretched hand and began to pull it over Jason's head. "You're going to have to help me dress him." 

"Sure. We can't take him back to the hotel like this." 

Jason was mobile but not aware. They had gotten him to stand, but he was not cognizant of his surroundings. 

Mac was searching the room for a jacket that he had seen Jason wearing earlier. 

Elliot was on his knees zipping up Jason's pants when he finally came around. 

"Pretty." The slurred word startled Elliot. He looked up, and Jason Tell was smiling crookedly down at him. "I'd do it on with you." 

"I found it!" Mac said and held up the jacket. 

Jason swung around towards the source of the voice. 

Elliot heard the rumble in his stomach before he saw the distressed look on the man's face. He jumped up and stepped behind him. 

"Mac! Grab... something." 

Mac read the situation perfectly, and placed a plastic wastebasket at Jason's feet just in time. 

Elliot held on to him from behind as he doubled and emptied the contents of his stomach. The spasms and retching went on long after they were productive. After a minute Jason quieted and hung limply in Elliot's grasp. 

"Right, sleep it off," Elliot said hotly as Mac approached with a towel. "More likely he'd drown in his own vomit." He was getting too old for this shit. It was too hard to keep the anger at bay. He wanted to find Jake and make him pay for this. He wanted to wipe the smug sneer off DelMar's face with his fists. His kill-switch was on, but Jason Tell and his situation was going to short circuit him any minute. 

"Isn't that how most rock stars die?" Mac asked as he kicked the fouled wastebasket aside, and stood Jason up so he could wipe his face. 

Elliot was startled by the light tone in the other man's voice, but was just as suddenly grateful for the distraction. 

"Number on the obit chart," he agreed. "That, and liver disease." He smiled back at Mac who grinned past Jason while he cleaned him. "You're not a half-bad partner, Mac." 

Mac frowned for a second. "Isn't that a double negative? I'm no really sure what that means." 

"It means thanks for helping me out here." 

Mac gave him a grudging nod. "Never thought I'd hear that from you. We better get out of here. I assume Jake is long gone." 

"He better be," Elliot warned as he pulled Jason's arm around his shoulder, and readied to take him out to the car. "If there are anymore towels, bring them." 

"I found three." Mac tucked the towels inside his own jacket before he secured Jason's other arm around his neck. 

"Good, because we can't let him get sick in the car. It belongs to Dobrinsky." 

"Dob..." Mac gulped and nearly dropped Jason's limp weight. "Dobrinsky! I don't think it's safe to be your partner." He shouldered Jason again, and they began to move him towards the door. "One of Dobrinsky's cars," Mac mused. "Jeeze, man you must have a death wish." 

Elliot opened the car door, and placed his hand on Mac's head to guide him into the back seat as Mac helped Jason. The thought of what it would be like with Mac if Vic weren't in the picture came unbidden. Mac was an appealing mixture of adolescent fun and raw masculinity. If Mac wasn't the competition he would be a pleasant distraction, Elliot mused for a moment, but just a moment. He knew Victor was the prize, regardless of the emotions that either of these two men stirred in him. He shut the car door hoping, that soon, he could shut both Mac and Jason out of his life. 

* * *

TITLE: Section Six, Part VI   
AUTHOR: LeFey   
FANDOM: Once a Thief   
PAIRING: Victor Mansfield and Mac Ramsey   
RATING: NC 17 sexual situation M/M.   
STATUS: Work in Progress   
ARCHIVE: RatB, Calculated Risks http://denofsin.slashcity.tv/~lefey   
FEEDBACK: Please. [email removed]   
DISCLAIMER: They belong to Alliance and John Woo.   
THANKS: As always, my partners in crime Nicole S and Kestrelsan   
SUMMARY: Vic and Mac go undercover with operatives from Section Six, the agencies sexual experts.   
---


	7. 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vic and Mac go undercover with operatives from Section Six, the agencies sexual experts.

  
**Section Six**

Part Seven   
by LeFey 

  
Mac sat in the back seat holding Jason while Elliot drove. Fortunately, the trip so far had been uneventful. Jason only stirred once, and it looked like he was going to be sick again. Mac was ready with the towel, but all that Jason produced was a cough. After Mac wiped his mouth, the man settled back into unconsciousness. 

There really was a sweetness in his face, Mac thought as he held Jason and watched him sleep. When he'd smiled at him, in the video, with that bleary eyed grin, it was impossible not to smile back. He remembered when they first met at DelMar's office -- how a fully functioning Jason Tell had left a professional like Elliot Hampton nearly speechless. That had been a strange scene. Maybe Vic wasn't the person Elliot wanted to protect from the bad judgment in making the video? Mac shook his head. He knew better. It was always about Vic with Elliot. 

As soon as they left the car Elliot put his arm around Jason and shifted the man's weight away from Mac. 

"It's okay," Mac said, still holding onto the sagging man. "I've got him." 

"You did the ride over. I'll do the rest." Elliot took a firm hold of Jason, and began to walk him towards the doors that lead to the elevators. He hesitated a moment and fished his keys out of his pocket. 

"You want to do the honors with this?" He tossed the keys to Mac. 

"Sure," Mac answered as he caught the keys, then jogged a few steps to catch up with Elliot. He held the door open as he walked Jason Tell through. 

Mac was a little suspicious about the real reason he'd been relieved of his burden. Something in the way Elliot touched Jason was not what he'd expected. It was a caress more than just a hand to keep the other man steady. There was a concern, too. Elliot's face displayed a care that was surprising. Mac never imagined Elliot might have the capacity to feel more than physical attraction with anyone besides Vic. With everyone else he was just on the make, looking for the next conquest. Jason Tell wasn't much of a conquest in his present condition. 

"Jason's kind of cute," Mac said, testing, as he studied Elliot for a response. 

"You'd know." Elliot tightened his jaw. 

"Right." Mac's voice trailed off as he was reminded of his own intimate knowledge of Jason Tell. He watched a couple more floors roll past on the lighted number panel. "He's cute in a sort of hunk, body builder way, but not so much of a muscle freak that..." 

"Mac, for once could you not talk just to hear yourself talk. Right now, the guy is cute in a real puke on yourself, asphyxiate in your sleep kind of way." Elliot shifted his grip on Jason. "Give this whole thing about how hot he is, how hot you are, and how hot you were together a rest." 

Mac opened his mouth to protest. Elliot always brought out the am not, are too fight in him. He thought better of it, though. Elliot was looking away from him. It hadn't been the challenge Mac took it for. It was more a plea for Mac to stop treading too close to something. 

Elliot cradled Jason Tell against him during the ride up to their floor. What was it that Elliot wanted with this guy, Mac wondered. He was average height with sandy hair and baby-wide hazel eyes. He was nothing like Victor. Maybe Mac had just pushed Elliot's competition button. Mac had seen it a thousand times when he'd been on the prowl himself. It was easy to imagine Elliot zeroing in on the hottest babe or the finest guy in a club, and laying claim to them regardless of whom they were with. Mac had seen it happen, hell, he'd made it happen countless times. First it was Victor and now this guy. Maybe, Mac thought as they neared the door to Elliot's room, Jason Tell was just one more guy Elliot figured he could take away from him. 

"Don't flatter yourself," Mac growled under his breath as he unlocked the door to the room. 

"What?" Elliot asked, while he propped Jason Tell against the wall. 

"The lock is sticky." 

"You're a thief, so... ." 

Mac pushed open the door and stepped back, ushering Elliot inside with a wave of his hand. He didn't bother to help as Elliot jostled the unresponsive Tell inside, and over to the bed. The anger he'd swallowed in the elevator was eating at him. 

Elliot stood up after he situated Jason on the bed. He spun on Mac. "Thanks for the help." 

Mac shrugged, and threw the keys on the dresser. "I thought you were doing okay, Nurse Nightingale." The thief remark had pissed him off, especially coming from this whore. He was suddenly tired and didn't think he had to play nice anymore. 

When Elliot's gaze met Mac's, it looked like he felt the same way. 

"You're the reason I didn't want to take this assignment." 

"Big surprise," Mac threw up his hands. "You'd rather have Vic on the other side of that door." He pointed towards his adjoining room. 

Elliot hissed out a laugh and shook his head. "This is what happens when you're forced to work with amateurs. I told the Director we didn't need either of you, but she wanted to cover all the bases. I said I could play the rich investor, and Ivy could be my wife... ." 

Mac interrupted with a loud laugh that made Elliot glance back towards Jason. 

"Funny joke!" Mac pointed at Elliot. "Who would believe you could be with a woman." 

Elliot gave him an infuriating smile. "I've been with more women than you've had turn you down. Do the math, that's a pretty substantial number. Besides, Mac, if you don't stop getting caught in the research stacks, humping Vic's leg the total Mo crown will go to you." 

"It always comes back to Vic, doesn't it? That's what gets to you - that I can get to Victor anytime." 

"Hmmm?" Elliot took off his jacket, draping it over the back of the chair, and leaned against the desk. "I seem to remember a long sad story about Victor walking away from you." 

"Fuck you, Elliot!" 

Elliot winked. "Snappy comeback." 

Mac took a step towards him. "I could snap something." 

"Come on!" Elliot slapped his own chest with both hands. "I'm tired of babysitting you, and cleaning up your fucking messes!" He jerked his thumb towards Jason Tell. 

"You do have a death wish, fool?" Mac said quietly, but his hands came up ready to strike. 

A garbled sound came from the bed, and both men froze in their fight stance. 

Jason Tell attempted to sit up, but his hand slipped on the bedspread. He fell back onto the pillow but tried to rise again, his eyes still closed. 

Elliot's arms came down first. "Great! You woke him up." 

"Me! I'm not the one who was begging to get his ass kicked." 

Elliot knelt beside the bed, and eased Jason back down. "It's okay," he said softly, all the anger gone from his tone. "You need something?" 

There it was again. The concerned and gentle Elliot that Mac found so unfathomable. He watched for a moment as this stranger ministered to Jason. Some of the adrenaline had drained away, although Mac's fingers still tingled with a desire to beat the previous smugness from Elliot's face. 

"I'll get him some water." 

"Thanks," Elliot replied without turning, and it surprised Mac how sincere he sounded. As he neared the bathroom door Elliot stopped him. "No water. He needs to piss." 

"Wait, I'll help you." Mac stepped quickly to the other side of the bed. Between the two of them they had Jason Tell on his feet and heading for the john. 

Bang! Something hit Mac's door, booming through the open door between their rooms. 

The two men flinched. 

Bang, Bang! 

Mac and Elliot looked at each other. Then the sound died to an insistent, rapid knocking. 

"I'm not so sure I want to get that." Mac raised his eyebrows. 

"Go on," Elliot motioned him away. "I can handle him from here." 

"You sure?" The knocking had ratcheted up a notch, and Mac nodded his agreement as Elliot waved him away again. 

"I'm coming!" he shouted at the closed door while he crossed the room. The knocking remained the same. The last time Mac had heard something like this there was an irate boyfriend on the other side of the door. Or was that the time with the kid's dad? Could have been that misunderstanding with the girl he thought was a guy and her dyke girl friend. Some men dreamed of being with two women, but not while one was trying to twist you into a pretzel. 

The knocking went back to a steady, percussive banging. 

"Give it a rest!" He turned the knob and jerked open the door. "Vic... ." He barely had the name out when Victor grabbed him by the throat. 

"You piece of shit!" Vic thrust him back across the room. 

The words were slurred with anger. Despite the tightening grip on his throat Mac could see the reddened face and bared teeth as Vic attached him. His face was like a storm. He wasn't going to stop by himself. Mac was caught by surprise. Vic had the advantage and momentum. In a second Mac found himself on the bed, head dangling over the edge as Victor choked him. He fought to get a hand free, his arms pinned between his chest and Vic's. If he could get one blow in a vulnerable spot he could dislodge him. 

Vic was shouting, the veins in his neck standing out like cord. "Bastard...Fucking prick-ass bastard! I'll kill you for this. Cock-sucking mother-fucker! I'll kill you." 

Mac tried to scream back at him as they fought. Vic was like a boa constrictor, his grip tightened with each breath, choking out any attempt Mac made to shout. 

"You destroyed my life! You're fucking dead!" 

Vic was bouncing on him now, shaking him as he lay half off the bed while they struggled. Mac leaned into the force and found his rhythm. One more wrenching jerk and he used Victor's weight to flip him backwards and into the wall behind them. Mac was off the bed in a second and moved towards the door. 

He collided with someone rushing through the half open door. Mac acted on instinct and turned the person towards Vic. He wanted to get something, anything between himself and this mad man who wanted to kill him. In an instant he saw it was Ivy. Just as quickly as he'd spun her in Vic's direction, he pushed her back towards the door. 

"Get out of here!" He tried to shout but his voice was an injured croak. 

Ivy jerked out of his grasp. "Victor, stop! You can't do this," she pleaded with him as he rose from the floor. She might as well have been mute. His eyes were narrowed and focused only on Mac. 

Mac wiped his mouth on the back of his hand. "Get out of here," he repeated, and tried to take her arm once again. 

She pulled from his grasp and wheeled on him. 

"He saw it!" 

"What?" Mac's voice returned to normal, but the panicked urgency in it scared him. 

"He saw that fuck film you made." 

Victor was standing now. "That's right. I saw your lying cock go up some dickheads ass. I saw it in front of sixty people at DelMar's party." His voice was low and throaty with rage. "You've played your fucking games with me, and toyed with me, and put me through hell for the last time. You're a dead man." 

He lunged at Mac again as Ivy yelled for him to stop. Mac pushed her aside and turned back to defend himself. Vic's fist caught him on the side of the face. He rolled away from the kick that followed. He rose to his feet and took the Dragon's fist stance. "Back off," he warned. "I don't want to hurt you, Vic." 

"Too late." 

Victor feigned a lunge at him once, then twice before Mac stepped forward. Vic moved aside just as Mac's hand neared and the blow glanced off his shoulder. 

Air whooshed past Mac's ear as Vic's closed fist hurtled at him. It impacted with a whop on the side of his head. He staggered back but just for a moment. He raised his open palm and the heel of his hand impacted with Vic's chest. There was a soft oomph sound but Vic wasn't fazed. This was bad. The guy was on a fight high spiked with rage. Mac threw another punch but Vic blocked it. In a second he was caught in Vic's grasp again. Lights flashed behind his eyes as Vic's thumbs pushed into his windpipe. Mac grappled with Vic's hands trying to break his hold. It wasn't working. He raised his hands to box Vic's temples, hoping that would be enough to break off the attack. 

Click. 

Both men froze at the sharp, metallic sound of the gun being cocked. 

Mac couldn't see it clearly, because he was too close and his eyes were watering, but the blurred cylindrical shape that pressed against Vic's temple was definitely a gun barrel. 

"Let go of him, Victor." Elliot pressed the barrel of the gun a little closer when Vic didn't respond. "This isn't going to happen. Let go of Mac." 

Vic's eyes glittered with a feral anger. 

"Your pimp," he told Mac. 

"Move away from him, Victor." Elliot's tone grew more insistent. 

Mac felt the slightest change in pressure and put his hands up once more to try and work Vic's fingers away from his throat. 

"I'm not playing here, Victor." Elliot moved around trying to make eye contact and break the obsessed stare Vic had fixed on Mac. "I'm not going to let you ruin your life like this." 

For a split second Mac wanted to put a fist through Elliot's face. He was choking to death and Elliot wasn't going to let Vic ruin his life? Another second Mac pried away the fingers that had him trapped. He pushed off and staggered back. He doubled over and coughed as a deep breath caught in his throat. The fit lasted a few seconds. When he was finally able to straighten, Vic was sitting on the end of the bed, his hands cradling his bowed head. Elliot still had the gun at the ready but no longer trained on Vic. 

"You have to listen to me, man." The plea came out as a raspy wheeze. 

Elliot, still looking at Vic pointed a finger towards Ivy. 

"What's this about?" 

"Mac was the entertainment at DelMar's party tonight." Her voice rang with distaste. "We got to see the money shot, when he mounted some guy. It was up on a wall of TV screens twenty feet high." 

Elliot looked over at Mac and shook his head. "That's unfortunate." 

Vic jumped up and stood nose to nose with Elliot. "It's a little bit more than fucking unfortunate. Where the hell were you when this was going down? Counting your part of the take?" 

"Victor, I... ." 

"You were supposed to stop this. The Director made such a damn stink about you being the expert." His voice took on an even angrier sing-song tone. "You were going to know what to do. You were going to... ." 

"He never talked to me," Elliot blurted out. "We were committed to the shoot before I knew about it." 

"Thanks, partner." 

"You shut the fuck up!" Vic's arm shot out towards Mac and his hand trembled as he pointed at him. "Nobody is fucking talking to you!" 

"Vic, it was part of the assignment. There was always the possibility that this would happen," Elliot stated. 

"Vic, let's just talk about this, alone." Mac carefully rubbed his neck with one hand. 

"What are you going to do?" Vic looked at him for the first time since the fight stopped, but he looked away quickly, his hands balling into fists. "You going to tell me Elliot held a gun to your head? I don't care if he lubed up your cock. This is your fault." 

"I think you need to leave, Victor. Put a little space between you and the situation. We'll talk about this in the morning." Elliot reached out to take Vic's arm, but he jerked away. 

"Vic isn't going anywhere." Mac took a step forward trying to gain his attention. "Just let me talk to you, man." 

"What? You think you can talk your way out of this, work me, and manipulate me like you usually do? You should have talked your way out of making that video." Vic threw up his hands. "But that would have spoiled your fun." 

"Nothing is going to be resolved tonight." Elliot interrupted. "Not the way you feel." 

"Oh, we can finish one thing tonight. You seem to think you're in charge of this screwed up operation." He jerked his finger at Elliot. "You contact the Director, right now, and tell her this is over." 

"Victor, you're upset... ." 

"No! No, Elliot I'm through. I'm through pretending that I can put up with all this crap. I'm through feeling like I want to scrub my skin off at the end of the day because of what these operations have made me do." 

"Victor," Ivy reached out her open hand. "I want you to come upstairs with me. You need to calm down." 

"And it will only cost you fifty-dollars," Mac chimed in. 

Ivy turned and scowled at him. 

"Your rates go up?" Mac cocked his head and studied her with mock curiosity. "I can't believe you'd get a hundred bucks a trick. Even a hundred bucks Canadian" 

Vic threw himself at Mac and crushed him against the wall. "Don't talk to her like that." He grabbed Mac by the shoulders and punctuated each word with another thrust against the wall. "You're the whore! You're the fucking whore." He repeated the words until Elliot and Ivy managed to dislodge him. 

Elliot pushed Vic towards the other side of the room, and then looked back at Mac. 

"I should leave you alone with him." 

Mac rubbed his arm where Victor's fingers had dug in as he battered him. 

"That would fit nicely into your master plan. You've been waiting for an opportunity like this, haven't you?" 

Vic spun on Mac again. "I told you, don't blame him. This is your fault. You did this to me!" 

"And what did you do to me?" Mac met Vic in the middle of the room. "This was a mistake, a horrible mistake and I'm sorry. I never meant for you or wanted you to find out about it. It was a one time thing, that's all." 

"And that's your excuse? It only happened once so in your warped mind that makes it okay?" 

"I'm asking you to forgive me." 

Vic gave a hapless shrug but then shook his head no. 

"Goddamn it Vic, I deserve it." He hesitated to say it but the game was lost now anyway. He was through being the dupe. "I know about Elliot!" 

"What are you talking about?" Vic held out his hands as if trying to grasp some meaning from Mac's words. 

"I know you've fucked around with Elliot." 

Vic still shook his head. "Of course you know. You were there." 

Mac raised his hand and he was trembling as badly as Vic had been moments before. He displayed his right index finger. "I was there the first time." He uncurled his left index finger. "But not the last time, or all the other times in-between." He displayed his hands all the fingers splayed out in a rigid, shaky gesture. 

He saw the expression on Vic's face change. The anger was draining away. An uneasy disbelief made him dip his head for a moment. Mac would have felt sorry for him if it didn't hurt so much to see the mute confirmation in his eyes. Vic glanced over to Elliot. 

"Don't look at me," came the soft reply. "I never told him anything." 

Mac let out a deep sigh. All the denial he'd used to protect himself was gone now. 

Elliot's corroboration didn't sit well with Vic either. Mac knew the look, the disbelief and betrayal that creased Vic's brow. 

"I didn't tell him," Elliot repeated. His voice had an edge to meet the challenge on Vic's face 

"He didn't have to tell me Vic. You were so damn sloppy about leaving things around it was like you wanted me to find out. I even found one of his pretentious monogrammed polo shirts in your gym bag." 

"Snooping, Mac?" Elliot asked. 

Mac balled his fist in reflex to the smug tone. 

"No, you prick. I was gathering up his laundry. He'd spent a long weekend with me and I was doing our wash. Something you've probably never had to do for him." 

Elliot's jaw tightened. "You're right, Mac. I've never done that. I've never had the luxury of spending a long weekend with Vic. I'm lucky if I get a couple of hours." 

Mac threw out his arms in helpless rage. "Jesus Christ, Elliot! You're breaking my fucking heart." 

"Mac, this doesn't matter." Vic motioned towards Elliot. "I'm not going to talk about this in front of... of everybody." His voice took on a note of panic. "You have to know that it wasn't about you. It wasn't deliberate. I didn't... I didn't mean for this to happen." 

"You lied to me!" Ivy's voice cut off the words of protest as they formed on Mac's lips. She stared at Elliot who only looked at the floor. 

"You don't fully understand the situation." His voice was muted and dismissive. 

"Don't bother with Vic," she said in a tight, mocking tone. "You can't get back what you think you had, what was never there in the first place." 

"Ivy." Elliot looked over to her, his face a mask of controlled anger. "Not now. This is not the time!" 

"I trusted you." Her voice threatened to break. "You were my partner and I listened to you." 

"I am your partner," he interrupted. 

Her voice rose to drown him out. "And all you were doing was trying to keep Vic for yourself." 

"Ivy." The name came as an apology from Vic. "I didn't know you worked with Elliot. Hell, I didn't know that you worked for the Agency until you walked into the briefing room this morning. I never meant to hurt you." He glanced over at Mac as if the words were for him as well. "Elliot and I ... it just happened." Vic touched her arm and she jerked away from him. 

"God Vic! How long do you think that crap is going to work?" Her arms folded across her chest like a barrier. "I just happened to find my dick in his mouth. I don't know how it got there? I never meant for it to happen. Just how stupid do you think we all are? I can't believe, or at least I don't want to believe, that you are so fucking lame that you have no control over your actions. And as for you." She turned and pointed at Mac. "If you let him get away with this crap, you fucking deserve each other. He's not that damn good in bed. But maybe I'm wrong. I've never had a cock he could suck." 

"You could have fooled me," Mac threw back. 

Victor shoved him in the shoulder, leaving a growing ache where the heel of his hand impacted. Mac raised his hands ready to strike, ready to give back much of the pain that had been visited upon him tonight. Elliot rose to his feet as well. Good, this was going to be perfect. It wouldn't take much to leave him bleeding. Mess up Elliot, and then beat some sense into Vic. Finish the night off by throwing that mouthy whore, Ivy, out into the hall. Things could be fixed, and Mac intended to fix them by hand. His fingers curled into the tiger's paws. 

The door between the two hotel rooms flew open and banged against the wall. Jason Tell wobbled in the doorway as he tried to take a step forward. He was nude except for a pair of tan briefs. He tried to plant his feet but one leg nearly buckled. 

"You... I'll help... You safe, Elliot?" The words slurred out of him as he looked over at Elliot. He squinted his eyes as he tried to focus. 

Elliot immediately reached to take his arm. 

"Oh, this is fucking sweet!" Vic launched another punch, but Mac fended it off and countered with a glancing blow that tagged Vic on the ear. Vic reeled back and touched the tip, then examined his fingers for any blood. He glared back at Mac. "Nice." His voice was low and deadly. "You bring your fuck toy back here for later?" 

"Look at him, Vic!" The words came out in an angry staccato as Mac pointed at Jason. "He's all fucked up. They gave him drugs and left him. We brought him back because he was passed out and could have died. He's no big competition for you. He had to be stoned to let me fuck him." 

"Makes sense to me," Ivy snapped. 

Mac turned, giving her a cold stare. "Shut up, bitch." 

The blow caught him on the side of the head setting off a shower of lights as he staggered back. 

Vic didn't follow up but turned on Jason Tell. "You're next shit head." 

Elliot had his arm around the other man's waist helping to support him. He took a step forward, partially shielding Tell from Vic. His expression hardened into determined strength. 

"You won't touch him, Vic." 

The unexpected challenge startled some of the anger out of Vic. 

"He's a casualty in all this and you're not going to hurt him. It was my idea to bring him here. You want to hit someone? You hit me." 

Vic wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "This is all so easy for you, isn't it? You're always so cool and above it all. I was just another way to show how fucking clever you are. I was just a game to you." 

"Be honest, Vic. It's too late to be anything else. I was the game for you. I made it plain how I felt, and what I wanted. You'd let me flatter and fawn over you to prove something to yourself, and then you'd run back to Ramsey." 

"Fuck you!" The words spewed out of Jason Tell. 

Elliot clamped his hand over the other man's mouth. He turned to look at Vic. "I guess there's no chance of that ever happening between us, now. You win Mac. Congratulations." 

Mac leaned against the wall and exhaled. This didn't feel like a win, and Vic didn't look like much of a prize right now. "You better put Jason back to bed," he said without looking up. 

"I'll be back and we'll talk this out." 

Mac pushed away from the wall. "No. You were right to begin with. We need some space. I want all of you out of my room." He took the few steps to the adjoining door and held it open. "Contact the Director and tell her this assignment is a bust. Blame me if you want, she will anyway." 

Elliot hesitated as he neared the door. "I'm not getting the Director involved. We can talk this out in the morning." 

"I've had enough talk." Mac felt as bone weary and out of it as Jason Tell looked. "Just take care of Jason. See that he makes it through this okay." 

Elliot nodded as he crossed the threshold. "We'll sort this out in the morning." The promise was muffled as Mac shut the door behind him. 

He turned to see Vic sitting on the end of the bed. Why did the guy have to be such a stubborn shit? Why couldn't he just leave? He was going to make him do it, say the words. Mac was empty inside, and the shell that was left had been tempered. He didn't want to, but he knew he could say it now. He was prepared to tell Vic to leave. 

* * *

TITLE: Section Six, Part VII   
AUTHOR: LeFey   
FANDOM: Once a Thief   
PAIRING: Victor Mansfield and Mac Ramsey   
RATING: PG 13 , Language.   
STATUS: Work in Progress   
ARCHIVE: RatB, Calculated Risks http://denofsin.slashcity.tv/~lefey   
FEEDBACK: Please. [email removed]   
DISCLAIMER: They belong to Alliance and John Woo.   
THANKS: As always, my partners in crime Nicole S and Kestrelsan   
SUMMARY: Vic and Mac go undercover with operatives from Section Six, the agencies sexual experts.   
---


	8. 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vic and Mac go undercover with operatives from Section Six, the agencies sexual experts.

  
**Section Six**

Part Eight   
by LeFey 

  
"I'm leaving." Ivy had the door to the hallway open and stepped just beyond the threshold. "I want you to come with me, Vic." 

Mac reached out and slammed the door in her face. 

Vic jumped from the bed. "Do you always have to be so fucking rude to her?" he snarled. He opened the door quickly and Ivy stepped back inside. 

Her jaw was set as Vic put his hands on her arms. 

"I won't be long," Vic told her 

She didn't look at him but glared at Mac. 

"Just go back upstairs and I'll be there soon." 

She resisted as he tried to move her towards the door. After a moment she jerked out of his grasp, and pointed a finger at Mac. 

"I hope he beats the fuck out of you!" She turned, raising one hand to stop any comment from Vic, and left the room, slamming the door behind her. 

"Why!" Vic shouted. "Why do you have to treat her like that?" 

Mac jerked his arm out, pumping his finger in the direction Ivy had gone. "Sure, but it's cool that she can tell you to beat me up?" 

"I don't understand you!" Vic grabbed his head with both hands as if to ward off more pain. "Why do you do this?" His hands came down in a helpless shrug. "Why? Why did you do it? Just tell me why. Why? Why?" He repeated the question until the frustrated rage drained from him and he stood with his arms limply at his sides. "Why did you do it?" His voice was little more than a whispered plea. 

"She said she was leaving," Mac offered, but he knew that wasn't what Vic was asking. "You should go, too." 

Vic laughed bitterly and shook his head. "So this is it? I always worried that something might happen to you, because of the job. Or I thought there'd be," he hesitated a moment and cleared his throat, "a woman. That you'd meet a woman and you and I would just be some big mistake. I never guessed it would be over because there were other guys." 

Vic lowered his head as the last words trailed off. Part of Mac was dying to take him in his arms, hold him, and reassure that scared kid in Vic that it could never be over between them. But part of Mac was just dying. 

"It hurts doesn't it?" 

Vic raised his head, and Mac noted the muted surprise on his face that he hadn't refuted the fact that it was over between them. 

"Yeah it hurts," Vic answered, his voice tight and harsh. "What I saw tonight hurt me to my heart." He pounded his clenched fist against his chest, beating out each word. "Is that what you want to hear? You want to know the degree? You want to know the ring of hell I was standing in while you fucked that cheap hustler in front of a room full of strangers? You want to know what it felt like as my soul was ripped out of me when you called him baby, when you told him he was fucking hot?" 

Mac stared at Vic as he wove a tapestry of anguish around himself. He didn't know when he would accept Vic's pain as an apology. He didn't know if he could. There was never enough pain to satisfy him. He had beaten his adopted brother Michael to a bloody pulp in search of vengeance for the other man's betrayals. It wasn't enough. After Vic's admission about Elliot he could probably kill Vic and it wouldn't be enough. Or more than likely he'd let Vic kill himself now that he floundered in his own misery. Not even a death felt sufficient to undo what had happened. 

Mac sat down on the bed and covered his face with his hands. This horrible night was allowing the dark visions to return, the terrifying memories of his mother's death. The same miserable feelings of rage and helplessness that he'd endured as he sat next to her bed in the public hospital and watched her die. He wasn't thirteen yet when she died of an untreated cancer. He couldn't carry the dark void placed on him by her death. The same shaking, frightening feeling that possessed him that night, rattled through him now. This was like being the powerless witness to another death. 

He brought his hands down and wove the fingers together as his arms rested on his legs. His own anger had gelled into a cold fear. He looked up at Vic. He didn't want vengeance and a request for forgiveness would never satisfy him. It struck him with merciless certainty. He needed Vic. He couldn't stop his mother from leaving him, but he wasn't going to let Vic walk away again. 

There had to be words to undo it all. He was the master of word magic. Now that they were alone, he could talk Vic down. He'd start slowly with an explanation and a pinch of contrition. "As soon as it was over, when, you know, the excitement was over, I knew it was a mistake. I never wanted you to find out. I would have never told you." 

Vic laughed again and pointed at the door that led to the next hotel room. "Did you think Elliot wouldn't tell me?" 

"No, he wouldn't. That's the part that you don't get, or at least won't admit to me. Elliot would never hurt you himself. He cares about you. He stood right here and said so." Mac got to his feet without realizing it, and his voice rose as he did. "That's what tears my heart out. I had a one-night stand with a stranger; you've been fucking around for eight months with somebody who loves you!" 

"He doesn't love me." Vic gave a half-hearted denial. 

"The hell he doesn't!" Mac took a step closer; the anger was hot and flowing in him again. "He walks into a room and it's like he has radar for you." Mac stood even closer but Vic didn't backup. "Whenever he's around you he's touching you and smiling. He can walk right up to you at a party and kiss you!" Mac pounded a finger into Vic's chest. "Kiss you on the mouth and you don't even stop him!" He shoved Vic back against the door as the rage exploded in him. "Everybody sees it!" He gripped Vic by the shoulders and battered him against the door. "I hate you for that! I hate you for thinking I'm so stupid I don't see it!" 

Vic wasn't fighting back, only wincing as he impacted with the door. Then the words came out in grunts as the wind was knocked out of him each time. 

"I'm... sorry. I... never... meant... it... to... happen." 

Mac stopped suddenly and laughed. He sunk against Vic, his head resting on the other man's shoulder. He was exhausted, ashamed and half-sick. Vic embraced him immediately. 

"Ivy was right about one thing." He raised his head and pushed himself away from Vic. "I'm not buying that crap anymore." 

"It's the truth," Vic's tone increased with protest as Mac turned and walked towards the bed. "I never went to him. I never once thought about being with him, things just happened." 

Mac turned on him. "Did you ever once say no?" 

Vic didn't answer but looked away. 

Mac shook his head. "I didn't think so." He crawled onto the bed and propped himself against the headboard. 

"Isn't your wife waiting for you?" he asked once he was settled. He regretted the words the moment they came out. He needed to coax Vic, play him, and not provoke him. His timing was shot and his game non-existent. Only Victor Mansfield could make him act like such an amateur. He had to get control of himself, Vic, and the situation. The stakes were just too high to blow it. 

Vic closed his eyes for a moment as an angry grimace tightened his jaw. 

"You still haven't answered my question." He stepped beside the bed. "I deserve that much." 

Mac's laugh was almost a sob. "Don't get me started on what you deserve." 

"This is your chance, Mac. This is your chance to tell me why I'm never enough for you." Vic sat down on the bed facing Mac. 

The incredible pain of how wrong Vic was rocketed through Mac. "You don't understand at all. You're the one who had an affair with Elliot. That puts me in the not enough for you category." 

"Yeah and I'm the one you're always trying to change. Tonight, some muscle bound jerk offers his ass and you forget my name." 

Mac leaned forward and pounded the mattress between them. "You forgot me this afternoon. You walked away from me like you always do. I spend half my life running after you, like a fool. Tonight, I ran the other way." 

Vic dipped his head at the angry words. "So, you did this to hurt me." He looked up when the answer was silence. "That's what I thought. Congratulations, you did one hell of a job." He began to rise but Mac caught his wrist. 

He'd gone too far again, but the frustration was too overwhelming to control. He jumped to his knees and grabbed Vic's face with his hands. "It doesn't matter! Can't you understand that? What I did... It doesn't... he doesn't ... I didn't... I didn't mean...I... ." 

"I thought 'I didn't mean to' wasn't an option anymore." Vic interrupted. "Or is that rule just for me?" 

Mac exhaled a sigh that pulled all the energy from him. There was no winning here. His hands dropped to cover Vic's. He trailed his fingers over the back of Vic's hands. A horrible longing grew in him as he tried to drag the act out for fear that he'd never be allowed to do it again. 

"It didn't mean anything." He sank onto the pillows and felt helpless as he realized all he had to fall back on was the truth. 

"Why?" Vic shook his head and looked away for a moment. "Just tell me why you did it." 

Explanations ricocheted in his mind but he was afraid that whatever one he chose would make Vic leave. 

"You wouldn't believe me." 

"I believed in... I believed you, until tonight." 

Mac hesitated, searching for the perfect words. There had to be a way to explain about the lonely pain that had sent him off to have sex with a stranger. 

"I need you to tell me, Mac. Tell me something, damn it!" Vic smacked his own leg with a closed fist. 

Vic's renewed anger sent a feeling of injustice coursing through Mac. 

"You made me feel like shit this afternoon," he said as he sat forward. "You do it all the time and don't think anything of it. There are consequences to how you treat me. I fucked that guy... I fucked that guy on film, because it made me feel important. It's the only cure I know for how you make me feel." 

"This is what I mean. It's not enough that you can make me say 'I love you' any time, any place. Admit it! Vic Mansfield just isn't enough for you. Now you have to act like a porn star to feel important?" 

"It's what I know." 

Vic looked away. His lips pursed in that all too familiar way that meant he was trying to control his temper. 

"What the hell does that mean?" The rising inflection told he wasn't succeeding. 

"I didn't grow up in the suburbs and go to Catholic school like you. I didn't run away from home because my Dad wouldn't let me have the car every Saturday." 

Vic caught his hand and jerked him forward. They nearly bumped foreheads and his breath came hot and fast on Mac's cheek. "Just because you're afraid to tell me why you did it, don't make a joke out of what I went through as a teenager. I told you things that I've never told anyone. You make me regret it and we'll both be sorry." 

Mac jerked away. "You won't understand." 

"Not if you don't tell me." 

"You can't understand!" He shot a challenging look at Vic but after a moment his gaze dropped. "You left your family. They didn't leave you." 

"Your father abandoned you. I know about... ." 

"My mother died a month later. I always thought my dad left because she was sick." He gave a quick confirming nod. "I still think that was the reason. I was nearly thirteen when I walked out of the hospital with the seventy-five Pounds I found in her purse and a few stolen credit cards left over from my dad's last scam. I couldn't go back to our apartment because we were being evicted when I had to take her to the hospital. I'd been on the game with my dad since I was old enough to talk. I had some ideas that I thought could keep me going." 

He looked up suddenly as he felt Vic's hand cover his. Vic wasn't angry anymore. His face was filled with compassion, and Mac wanted to lean closer and feel the comforting warmth of him as he was wrapped in Vic's arms. Instead, he cleared his throat and looked away as he continued. 

"I lasted maybe ten months before I lucked into the Tang family. A lot of that time was spent on the street, looking for a place to crash, looking for food. But towards the end I stumbled onto a situation that would have become my life if the Godfather hadn't adopted me." 

He looked up at Vic and wondered if he would still be able to meet his gaze after he knew the truth. 

"I started hanging around the Tong Xing district." 

"The what district?" 

"Tong Xing. The gay district." It surprised him how hard it was to say the words to Vic, after all the years that distanced him from that life, and after all the things he and Vic had done together. Mac still felt like he'd just outed himself to a straight friend. 

"I was always tall for my age so I could pass for a young looking seventeen or eighteen. A lot of guys wanted to take me home but I got food or drinks first and had some excuse why I couldn't leave. One of the club owners picked up on it, and he told me he'd give me money and one meal a day to perform." Mac laughed softly. "I wasn't sure what he wanted, but I figured I could get a few meals out of it before he made demands." 

"So, you were in the same situation as LiAnn?" Vic squeezed his hand. 

"Prostitution? Not exactly. The guy, Mr. Chang, was pretty sharp when it came to promoting his club. He saw how I attracted his customers. He brought in a pro to teach me to strip. He put me on stage and I did two shows a night. He made certain that there was absolutely no chance that anyone could have sex with me. I was unattainable and the customers just kept coming, in more ways than one. And that's why I did it." He looked at Vic and hoped he had the words to make him understand how it felt. 

"I was just a kid who woke up in the morning and didn't know where I would be sleeping that night. I scrounged for food and stole what I couldn't afford to buy. But when I got on that stage I was the most important guy on earth. It made me feel so... powerful... to have all these men watch me. Some were rich, some were well known and some were so gorgeous that, offstage, I was afraid to talk to them. And they were all there to watch me. When I was up in that spotlight I didn't have any problems. It was such a complete rush to be the center of attention, and know everybody wanted me." 

Vic looked away but his hand was still warm and firm over Mac's. 

"That's why I did the film. I wanted to feel good. I knew that if I performed I could make everything else go away." 

Vic spoke without looking up. "You're right. I can't understand." 

Mac thought the oxygen had been sucked from the room. He had bared his soul in another useless attempt to run after Vic. This time he hadn't just fallen on his face; he'd been flung off a cliff. A million scenarios played out at light speed in his mind. He could try to talk himself back into Vic's good graces. He'd done it before. He could offer him sex; try to top the tricks Elliot must use. But the questions quickly replaced any answers he might have. If this were really the end of them, would Vic still want to be his partner? Would the Director trust two ex-lovers to be a successful team? And when it came down to it, could he accept the crumbs of Vic being only his partner when he wanted him to be his lover, to be his reality? He didn't know he'd lowered his head until he felt Vic's palm gently cradle his cheek and raise his head to look at him. 

"I can't understand because I never went through anything that difficult. I can't understand why you'd need to perform acts like that in order to feel valuable. Especially since everyone knows how damn incredible you are." 

Vic's hand moved to the back of his head and pulled him in close. They stayed together, Mac wrapping his arms around Vic and holding him tight. 

Vic's words were little more than a whisper against Mac's neck. "That whole scene must have been so scary and confusing for you. You were just a kid, a straight kid, surrounded by this life you didn't get." 

Mac cringed when he heard straight kid. Vic said he couldn't understand. But he'd also said he couldn't understand if Mac didn't tell him. Mac pushed away a little and studied Vic. He wore a comforting smile as his hand came up, again, to cradle Mac's cheek. God, he didn't want to lose this, but tonight proved how easily it could slip away if the two of them kept secrets from each other. There was nothing left to lose, Mac thought, except for the lies. 

"I didn't have any trouble getting it." 

Vic looked puzzled. 

"I was never a straight kid. I went to the Tong Xing District because I felt comfortable there." His throat was suddenly tight and dry. "I'm gay. I always have been." 

He saw the denial form immediately in the frown that creased Vic's brow. "But you and LiAnn... ?" 

"I got into another sort of life. I did what a lot of guys do when what they want in bed is a liability. I tried to fix it. I love LiAnn and we have so much in common. It was easy to be around her. I learned that if you show a woman enough attention they really don't care about the quality of the sex." He raised his eyebrows, "And she sure as hell didn't care about the quantity. So, I figured, I have LiAnn, and if I can make it work with her, then no problem." 

"You never had sex with a man before me?" 

Mac started to laugh but choked it off when he saw the look on Vic's face. 

"In a crime family the men have wives and they have girlfriends. LiAnn and I weren't married but you could say she was my wife. I never had a girlfriend, and I got kidded a lot about being whipped. But they never knew that I had the occasional encounter with a boyfriend. It was always something anonymous and stealthy. I couldn't afford to be found out. My position with the Tang family was more important to me than anything." 

Vic started to speak a couple of times, his lips forming words in that soundless, uneasy way that usually made Mac start to laugh and tease, sound it out, man. This time, he was too fearful of what those words would be, what sort of world shattering power they might contain. He hoped they would never come out. 

"I... . I never thought... ." Vic swallowed and looked around him as if he could find what he wanted to say written on the wall somewhere. "I thought you were ... like me," he finally managed. "I thought this was new for you, too." 

If he wanted to hurt Vic, exact a revenge that might actually be satisfying, this was the time. Just a few details from one of his old encounters would leave Vic bleeding. Vic might have been a tough street cop in his previous life, but in the one he shared with him he was the most vulnerable person Mac knew. It would be so easy and so deserved to leave him with a few raw wounds. As soon as the thought formed he discarded it. Things were too out of balance already. Vic had beaten him for months with the enormity of his affair with Elliot, the potential that he could leave him. Mac knew he was still standing. Vic had crumpled the moment he'd seen him with someone else. There was no contest here, no honor in defeating a man who had no defenses. Maybe that was the difference between them. He knew he would fight for Vic, but in the same circumstances Vic would fight him. Being in love was hard, but being in love with Victor Mansfield was a battle. So, Mac decided to tell Vic what was very nearly the truth. 

"I didn't have a whole lot more experience than you did when we hooked up." 

Vic's eyes widened with disbelief. "You acted like you were always cruising chicks. I thought you were getting girls all the time. You were the one who went to all those strip clubs." 

Mac shrugged. "Like I said, it's what I know. I don't care who does it. The act is sexy. It's the first thing that ever turned me on when I was a kid. It turns me on to do it. It turns me on to watch it, whether it's a man or a woman." 

"Why didn't you ever tell me?" Vic asked after a long pause. 

Mac laughed. "Elliot calls you straight boy. I thought... . I knew you wouldn't want to have anything to do with a queer like me." 

"I don't think of you as... ." Vic hesitated and it was clear he couldn't say the word. "I don't think about us being gay." 

"I know." 

"I just think about how Mac Ramsey happened to me." 

A sudden current of anger shot through Mac. It amazed him how Vic could still deny what he was doing. 

"Yeah, I guess that's it. We're just two guys sitting around pulling each other's dicks while we wait for the right girl to come along. Oh, I'm wrong! That's just you now that I've made my confession. And it's not two guys it's three, but that's your other boyfriend, not mine. Is that some kind of new math, Vic? I'm gay but the straight boy has two boyfriends?" 

"Mac don't." 

"Don't what, Vic? Don't ask for my own explanation?" 

"He doesn't matter," Vic blurted out. 

"He mattered for the last eight months. Elliot figures he matters enough that he can have his own straight boy all to himself." 

"That's never going to happen." Vic edged towards him on the bed. His tone was flat and each word was an effort, a defeat. "I am really sorry, Mac." 

"Are you Vic?" The anger was still tingling through him. "Or are you just sorry I found out?" 

"I'm sorry. That's all I can say." He looked at the wall again and his eyes were glistening. "You deserve better than... better than me" 

Mac pounced to his knees again and grabbed Vic by the shoulders. "You idiot! There is no one better than you. When are you going to realize that? I want you, that prick Elliot obviously does, not to mention your lovely wife. LiAnn was engaged to you for Christ sake! She's the woman who told everyone she'd never get married. How many more people do you need before I'm enough?" His voice crescendoed. He fell silent as he realized it was the same question Vic had asked him. "I just need to be enough for you," he said quietly. 

Vic swiped at one eye with the back of his hand. "It's not you Mac, it's..." 

The anger exploded again. "Oh shit, don't you have any respect for me at all? You're not going to use that trite 'it's not you it's me' line?" 

"It is me!" His voice boomed out as Vic pounded a finger into his own chest. "LiAnn didn't marry me, did she? You came back and I didn't look so good anymore. Any other woman, who ever showed me any attention, was doing it so she could use me. The closest I ever came to a lover was Ivy, an informant. And I gave her money every time. There may have been something between us, but it was more business than love." 

"What happened to you with women has nothing to do with us." Mac tried to control the anger that still tinged his voice. Vic was close to a melt down and he didn't know if he had the strength left to deal with that. 

"It's why I did it." The fingers of one hand curled into a closed fist as Vic continued to hit his chest. "It's why I did things with Elliot." 

"Your history with women has nothing to do with Elliot." 

"I've seen women look at him. I've seen everyone look at him any time he walks into a room. But he only looks at me. You don't know what that means, Mac, because you're just like him. You've never smiled at a beautiful woman and had her walk past you. Because you, Mac, you're the one she's heading for in the first place." 

"They look at you, Vic. You just don't notice. It's only guys with brass balls like Elliot and me that take the chance to approach somebody as ... ." He traced his fingertips down Vic's cheek. "As perfect as you are." 

He could feel the heat rise under his fingers and an embarrassed smile spread across Vic's face as he pressed into Mac's hand. 

"You're both wrong," Vic whispered. "But the only reason I can give you is the same one you gave me. It made me feel important. That's my problem not yours." 

"Vic, when is it ever going to end? When will you believe that you're more than enough?" 

He leaned forward, his head on Mac's shoulder. "I don't know." 

Mac held him close and rested his cheek against Vic's hair. 

"I wanted to tell you how I felt today." Vic said. "I tried to explain to Ivy why we were together. In the middle of it I realized what I'd done to you this afternoon." He turned his head and looked up into Mac's face. "I wanted to tell you, because I know I don't show you what you mean to me. I wanted to talk, but you were already gone." He moved back into Mac's embrace, his face buried in his shoulder. "Why didn't you ever say anything about Elliot?" 

Mac hesitated. Part of him was reluctant to answer for the same reason he had never spoken about what he knew was happening between Vic and Elliot. 

"I couldn't. If I said something, put the words out there, gave it a name, it made it real. As long as no one said it out loud I still had my denial to hang on to." 

Vic looked at him once more. "Is that why you hardly ever say you love me?" 

"I show you how I feel all the time." 

"You almost never say the words. You make me say them." 

Exhaustion was wearing thin any resistance Mac had left. "You have too much power over me as it is." 

Vic sat up. He shook his head and gave a disbelieving laugh. "You're the one with the power. You could have destroyed me tonight." He stared for a moment and seemed to notice the dark bruising on Mac's neck for the first time. His fingers went gingerly to the marks he had left. 

"God, I hurt you!" The words were followed by an incredulous gasp. 

Mac winced at the contact, just beginning to acknowledge the ache that encircled his throat. 

Victor moved his hands away quickly, trailing them down Mac's arms, clutching and holding him as he went, then returning to his shoulders. "We need to get you a doctor... get you to a hospital." 

Mac shook his head. "It's just bruising. I've had worse. You didn't do any real damage." Mac reached out and ran his hand through Vic's hair. He looked so child-like in his concern, so frightened that he had done this to him. The unexpected touch of Vic's fingers on his bare skin through a hole torn in his shirt sent a shiver rattling through Mac. 

Vic covered the opening with the palm of his hand. "I tore your shirt." His eyes were large and full of regret as he took stock of what his attack had done. 

Mac was suddenly very aware of how pathetic he must look, torn, tacky velour top, vivid bruises circling his throat. Anger, from too many sources to name, snapped through him. He pushed Vic back and off the bed. 

"I'm... sorry,... Mac." Vic stammered as he stood up. "I'm sorry about the shirt." 

"I don't care about the damn shirt!" Mac knew it wasn't just about the shirt, but it seemed like the best target. He pulled the shirt over his head and grabbed at the tear and pulled. "I hate these damn clothes!" He tore the shirt up the front then ripped off a sleeve and threw it across the room. "I wouldn't be caught dead in this discount store trash." He tried to pull off the other sleeve but it wouldn't budge. His frustration erupted in a bellowing scream. 

"Mac! Mac, easy." Vic had hold of the garment and tried to take it out of his hands. 

The contact brought him back. "Whose idea was this anyway?" He threw the shirt at the mirror above the dresser. "I'd like to get my hands on the idiot who decided to put me in this crap and put you in a tailored shirt." 

Vic smiled and ran his hand over Mac's bare shoulder. "Yeah, is there anything right with that idea?" 

"No. Absolutely nothing," Mac agreed. Vic's hands continued down his arms and gripped his hands. He moved them to the front of his own shirt. 

"Unbutton this for me?" Vic asked in a husky whisper. 

"Why?" Mac countered as he undid the first button. "You give your dresser the night off?" The anger was leaving and a tingle of excitement appeared in its wake. 

"You do a better job," Vic told him as the last button slid through the hand-stitched buttonhole. He took his shirt off and gently slipped it over Mac's shoulders. "Put your arms in." 

The touch of the finely woven fabric, radiating Vic's heat, was deliciously sensuous against his skin. Mac rolled his shoulders to feel the cloth play over his back, then slid his arms into the sleeves. 

"Thanks," he said, his eyes closed. "This is nice." He turned the collar up and rubbed it against his cheek. "It smells like you. I like that." Vic had always smelled like purity and virtue to him. There had been a Jesuit boy's orphanage on the edge of the Tong Xing district. Mac had begged meals there during part of his life on the streets of Hong Kong. The priests all seemed brilliant and inhumanly kind to him and far too handsome to be celibate. They'd always try to help him but he would disappear before they could. They smelled of clean clothes and freshly washed skin, with the faintest hint of some exotic incense. That's what good people, people who cared about you, smelt like. That's what Vic always smelled like. 

Vic's hands went inside the shirt and Mac felt himself drawn against him. Vic moved his body slowly over Mac's, letting the thick growth of hair on Mac's chest tickle over his bare skin. Mac enhanced the sensation by trailing his fingers lightly up and down Vic's back till he wiggled against him. 

Mac smiled. "This is what I like." 

"I know." Vic continued the slow dance against him. "And I know I don't give you this often enough." 

Mac's hands came forward and his fingers opened Vic's expensive leather belt. "I like to make love, not compete with you." Mac said, and then ran his tongue lightly over the tip of Vic's ear. 

Vic jerked away. 

Not again? He didn't have the strength for another round of fighting. He knew Vic was sensitive about what he thought of their extreme sex games. He wasn't even thinking of that now. He just wanted to tell him that he craved this kind of affection. What did he expect? Vic could go from loving to outraged in the blink of an eye. 

Vic's hand covered his ear. He dipped his head in an embarrassed nod. "Sorry, but you nailed me pretty good. It's too sore to touch." 

A relieved laugh bubbled out of Mac. "Is that all? I thought you were pissed at me again." 

Vic tilted his head. "I'm always going to be pissed at you again, Mac. You just do that to me." 

"Yeah," Mac trailed his hand down Vic's chest. "You do that to me, too." 

Vic smiled. "We have to stay together. Who else could put up with either of us?" 

"Speaking of getting up ... ." Mac grabbed Vic's belt and tugged him closer. 

"I said putting up," Vic told him and laughed. 

Mac rubbed the growing bulge in the front of Vic's pants. "Don't rush the foreplay, stud. We'll put it up in a while." 

Vic's hands glided over the thin leather of Mac's pants leaving charges of sensation wherever he touched. He stopped for a moment over his hips then slipped his hands into Mac's pockets. 

Mac jerked at the exploration. "Vic, don't! That tickles too much." A breathy laugh accompanied the last words. 

"What have you got in here?" 

Mac pulled his hands away. "I said, don't." 

"What's in your pocket?" 

"Condoms and lube. They had boxes of them at the studio." Mac pulled small tubes and brightly colored plastic squares from his pockets and tossed them on the bed. "If somebody had put me in a pair of pants with decent pockets I could have scored a lot more." 

"I like these pants." Vic grabbed Mac's ass with both hands and pulled him forward. He ground against him for a moment, and then moved back enough to get his hand between them. His fingers traced over the taut leather that outlined Mac's erection. "You can't hide anything in these." 

"You like what you do to me?" Mac rocked against Vic's hand. Vic's own cock jumped where it was pressed against Mac's leg. Mac knew Vic's little kinks. On the top of that list was Mac acknowledging how much Vic aroused him. Vic loved the power it gave him. 

"Why don't you show me what I did? Take these off." He squeezed Mac's ass with the hand that remained there. 

"I don't know if I can," Mac teased back. "They're so tight and you've got me too hard." 

Vic gave a sly laugh and moved his fingers slowly up Mac's shaft. The thin leather was like lube enhancing the sensation until it was nearly unbearable. Mac chewed at his lip to keep a moan from escaping, but despite his best efforts a tremor moved his hips as Vic neared the head of his cock. 

"Feels like you're in real trouble here." 

"You better help me," Mac told him. 

"I wouldn't know what to do." Vic started a lazy, zigzag over the stretched leather covering Mac's balls. His mouth found Mac's. The kiss was a mixture of need and teasing. His lips brushed gently over Mac's, setting off a storm of sensation. Mac tried to increase the passion, but Vic pulled back, gingerly kissing only the corners of his mouth. His tongue darted along Mac's lower lip, just under the edge, changing his arousal into torment. 

Vic stepped away suddenly. 

Mac touched a finger to his swollen lips trying to rid himself of the excitement that still tingled there. 

Vic toed off his shoes and slipped out of his socks. He dropped his pants and stepped out of them, leaving them where they lay. He pushed the white cotton briefs down and tossed them onto the pants with his foot. His hand went immediately to his swollen cock. He held it for a moment as if there were no other choice. He smiled at Mac. 

"Take off your pants." His voice was in that throaty dark register that drove Mac insane. 

Mac swallowed. "I told you," he rubbed his fingers along the bulge in his pants, "a little help here?" 

Vic moved to him and slipped his hands inside the shirt. His fingers moved in a gentle massage over Mac's heated skin. "I'd help you but I'm not the expert. Show me Mac." He whispered the words, smoky with desire, next to Mac's ear. "Show me how you do it." 

Mac wasn't certain that he was hearing this right. 

"Be that unattainable boy, for me." Vic's fingers dug into his back. "Make me want you even more. Make me ache because I can't touch you." 

The realization of what Vic wanted bolted through him. 

Mac stepped back, but then leaned in as if to kiss Vic. The other man's mouth was open and ready when Mac said, "Get on the bed." Then he turned away from Vic. 

He stood by the dresser. He was throbbing from the idea that he could do this for Vic, to him. He had never done this without music, but he'd seen a woman in Hong Kong do an act that was ferociously sexy and accompanied only by the panting of her audience. He wished now that he'd worn underwear; there would be that much more to take off. But this show wouldn't be about revealing flesh. Vic knew every inch of him already. This would be purely about sex and unfulfilled arousal. Mac's own erection jumped in the confines of his pants. He'd have to be careful. This was going to be as big a turn on for him as it would be for Vic. He reached down and quickly pulled off his shoes and socks. He didn't want to fight with those at the end. 

He turned around and Vic was propped against the headboard, cradling his dusky erection in one hand. The anticipation on his face was clear. Shyness disappeared from him when he was flushed with the heat of lust. He stared at Mac, unblinking. A smile that said he wanted and needed him played on his lips. 

Mac smiled back and started to take off the linen shirt. But he stopped and only exposed more of his chest. He ran his hands over his body till he found his rhythm. He turned the exploration into a sensuous dance intended to arouse both of them. He wet his fingers with long slow descents into his mouth, mimicking a blowjob. He touched his nipples and used the glistening salvia to lubricate as he let his fingertips glide over them while he writhed at the sensation. 

It was a long time before the shirt was discarded altogether. He showed Vic many moments of raw sex counterpointed with delicate titillation. He paced himself and kept an eye on Vic to see how much was too much. When Vic seemed to caress himself too often Mac stopped. He stood with eyes closed for a moment, then raised his arms and danced easily to some inner music. When he opened his eyes Vic was watching him, flushed and on the verge, but still not satisfied. 

Taking the pants off was its own show. He played with himself until he was afraid he'd gone too far as he unzipped barely one tooth of the zipper at a time. He opened his pants just enough to allow the head of his cock to peek out. He writhed and moaned as he lightly circled the sensitive tissue. Vic was holding himself by the base, like a cock ring. Mac backed off, closing the pants and threatening to zip them again. He laughed at the disappointment on Vic's face. He pulled them open a little and ran his hands down his legs. It took him a long torturous time to peel off the supple leather. He exposed himself and covered the prize many times. He turned and showed off his ass, running his hands over its curves as he watched Vic's reaction in the mirror on the wall. 

Finally, the pants were discarded after taking them off and pulling them back and forth between his legs in a raw, teasing exhibition. 

Mac looked at his audience. Vic's arousal mirrored his own. They were both panting, their cocks weeping with need. This should have been the finale, but Mac was enjoying the performance too much to stop. His hand strayed to his groin. There was a small gasp from Vic. 

"If I do it just right," Mac said, as he began to trace a line across the triangle of his pubes, "I can make the man twitch." 

"Let me." Vic was sitting forward on the bed ready to stand. 

"You're not supposed to touch the performer. Oh," Mac moaned. "I almost had it." He and Vic found out one night, as they played with each other, how ticklish they both were at the Y of their legs. But they'd gone on to discover that if the tickle was more like a caress, Mac's cock would pulse and twitch if the right spot was played. The pleasure was intense and Vic had gotten him off once just by teasing him there. But the sweet thing was the knowledge that Vic had gotten off more than once as he did it to Mac. 

"Uh!" The sound bucked out of him as his cock jumped. He'd found a spot and pulsing pleasure kept beat to the caress of his fingertips. Mac closed his eyes as the sensation charged through him. 

He heard the bedspring squeak but didn't bother to open his eyes. His fingers were brushed aside and Vic's lips, gently suckling at the spot, created the same nerve rattling sensation. Mac threaded his fingers through Vic's soft hair. He gasped as the feeling stopped. 

In one fluid motion Vic stood and pushed Mac towards the bed. He resisted for a moment, but Vic was strong and insistent. 

He found himself face down on the bed with the warmth of Vic's body covering his. 

"Let me," he whispered. "I need you. Let me do it, Mac" 

Mac heard the sound of Vic's hand scrambling over the bedspread, retrieving a condom and lube from the ones Mac had spilled from his pocket. 

Vic kissed his back, licking and nipping at his skin. Mac felt the hardness of Vic's hot erection as he pumped against his leg. "I need you, Mac," he pleaded between kisses. "I never did this with him. I never did this with anybody but you. This is just for you and me." 

The words were like magic. This was what he needed to make everything all right. Vic had kept that part of himself from Elliot. Vic was still his virgin. Mac raised himself up on his hands and knees. In a second he felt Vic's fingers, cool and slick with lube, slip inside him. It only took a few moments to prepare him. Vic wasn't being hesitant tonight like he usually was. His hands were powerful and moved with urgency. He mounted him swiftly with none of the usual questions about how did it feel, or was he hurting him. They both knew tonight they had fought past the pain. 

Vic thrust quickly into him, setting off shreds of sparkling sensation as he hit that miraculous spot. Then, he slowed and Mac braced himself as Vic leaned his weight along his back. 

"Ahhh." He gasped and arched when Vic spidered his fingers along his groin. 

"Too much?" Vic asked and stopped immediately. 

"Yeah," Mac managed and was surprised that his own voice was as husky with need as Vic's. "Just stroke me." 

"Mmmmm." Vic started a low growl in the back of his throat that very nearly made Mac come even before the strong fingers wrapped around his cock. 

Vic moved again, a slow but demanding rhythm that matched the work his hand was doing. Mac tried to hold on, to make this perfect moment of pleasure and lust last forever. 

"Say it." Vic peppered kisses on Mac's shoulder. "Tell me." 

Mac would tell him anything. He wanted to tell him everything. 

"Say the words. Make it real." 

This was the only reality Mac ever wanted. 

Vic's hand tightened, the thrusting increased and a tattoo of sensation was beaten non-stop from inside him. 

"Make it real." Vic repeated over and over as he built to his own climax. 

The words came with a crash of bliss. They spilled out in Cantonese, then French and finally English. A wave of transcendent pleasure swept through Mac and carried his true feelings from the depths where he had hidden them and made them real. "I love you." He panted as the last shreds of his orgasm spasmed from his body. 

Vic pressed his lips to Mac's ear. "It's only you, Mac. Only you and me." 

* * *

TITLE: Section Six part VIII   
AUTHOR: LEFEY   
FANDOM: Once A Thief   
PAIRING: Vic/Mac/others   
RATING: NC-17 M/M Sex and Language   
STATUS: WIP   
ARCHIVE: RatB, Calculated Risks http://denofsin.slashcity.tv/~lefey   
FEEDBACK: Please. [email removed]   
DISCLAIMER: They belong to John Woo and Alliance. Elliot and Section Six belong to me.   
THANKS: Kest and Nicole for the encouragement and best beta ever.   
SUMMARY: Vic and Mac go undercover with operatives from Section Six, the agencies sexual experts.   
---


	9. 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vic and Mac go undercover with operatives from Section Six, the agencies sexual experts.

  
**Section Six**

Part Nine   
by LeFey 

  
Elliot sat on the bed in the darkened room and wondered how he had come to be _this_. 

"Mac, this doesn't matter." Vic's words burned through him. He had pointed at him. Then his hand had swiped through the air dismissing him as something disposable in Vic's life. 

"Mac, this doesn't matter." He knew he was only second place to Mac. He had only kidded himself that it would be any other way. He never imagined, though, how it would cut when said aloud. 

"Mac, this doesn't matter." Vic couldn't say his name, or even use a distancing pronoun. _This_ , this thing I let blow me because he worked so hard to seduce me. There was a fine line between seduction and begging. Elliot had moments of doubt after hard won, hurried trysts with Vic when he wondered if he'd crossed that line. But he was Victor Mansfield --- that had always been his comforting answer. Whatever he had to do for Vic was worth it. Now, he admitted, he was just _this_ to Vic. Not even worth the trouble to call by name. 

Elliot jumped as a muffled voice sounded from the next room. The last half-hour had been couched in profound silence shattered by unintelligible shouts as Mac and Vic continued to fight. 

He looked over at Jason Tell. The noise didn't wake him. He was sleeping peacefully now, on his side. He clutched the blanket that Elliot had covered him with close to his chest. His face was bathed in a soft glow from the bathroom light that Elliot had forgotten to turn off. There was something so appealing about his face even in sleep, that Elliot found himself studying the contours for an answer and a distraction. 

He remembered an article he'd read in a psychology journal while in college about babies reacting with dilated pupils when shown pictures of deformed human faces. Elliot always wondered if the reverse were true as well. What was it about that perfect face that elicited the "awe" factor? Were humans, through eons of evolution, as predisposed to recognize and react to beauty as they were to deformity? 

What was it about this guy? Maybe it was the large eyes that had a seasoned wonder in them. Elliot was a master of interpreting and feigning facial expressions. People display interest by widening their eyes as they listen. Maybe this guy with the baby wide eyes gave off that interest vibe whether he felt it or not. 

Jason stirred slightly and licked his lips before his breathing deepened and he was asleep again. Pretty mouth --- that was something that always drew Elliot. He liked a nice, defined shape and a little fullness that hinted at hidden sensuality. That described Jason; it described Vic even more. 

"Sorry, Cutie," he whispered to the sleeping man. "I just reduced you to a type. _This_ has the balls to stereotype you." 

The laugh from the next room and the answering, lower-pitched chuckle rattled him out of his musings. There was no scorn in that laugh as he'd heard earlier. The sound was throaty and sensual even though muted by the hotel walls. 

It was over. Vic and Mac had come together again. It was inevitable, just as they were inevitability meant for each other, but Elliot had been fool enough to hope. Vic actually thought it was easy for him. That stung more than anything, the realization that Vic never knew how hard he was trying. Mac had said that his biggest problem was coming up with another smart-ass remark. There were no clever words he could use to make this pain go away. 

He should go in now that it was over, for all of them, and break it up. He should make Vic go upstairs to his partner of the moment, Ivy, and get the assignment back on track. Elliot told himself that he would do this, promised himself that it would happen. In a minute, in just a minute after the lethargy left his arms and legs, and after the dread of seeing them in each other's embrace passed. In a minute he thought as he squeezed his eyes shut. 

"Goodbye, Victor." 

* * *

Elliot hurried down the long stark corridors of the Agency. He had seen Vic round the corner ahead of him. He was certain it was Vic. No one looked like Vic. No one else carried off the paradox that was Vic. He wore the trappings of a dark sexuality --- leather jacket and well-worn, tight jeans --- like a second skin, and yet he had that inviting smile and was open and vulnerable. 

Elliot broke into a jog and turned the corner where Vic had gone. He saw him up ahead. Elliot was certain that if he knew he was here he would want to talk with him, joke around, and maybe go somewhere that they could be alone. He just had to let him know he was here. 

Victor stopped and pushed the button for the elevator that lead to the garage. 

Elliot tried to hurry, but his legs were leaden and it felt like he was running in molasses. This was bad. Vic was leaving. But it could be good. They could go somewhere together. Elliot could take him to dinner, or make him dinner or just make out with him on the bench seat of his truck. 

"Vic," he called out, but it was little more than a squeak. "Vic." He tried again, but his throat was tight and dry. He looked around for the water fountain. There was a water fountain in each hallway. He'd seen them a million times and always wondered the same thing. "Who the hell would drink out of those things? You might as well lap it up from the toilet." 

Where was the damn thing? He looked around the hall and saw just the corner of the stainless steel pedestal peeking out from behind a pillar. 

"Vic." He called once more but his voice had even less volume than before. Vic was standing by the elevator, his hands stuck in his jeans pockets, and he rocked slightly on his heels as he waited. 

Elliot looked back at the water fountain. He'd take a drink to clear his throat, and then let Vic know he was here. That would stop him from taking the elevator when it did arrive. 

He stepped over to the stainless steel basin and bent towards the spout. He pushed the button and a trickle of water gurgled from the tube. He stabbed at the button several times but the flow wouldn't increase. He'd have to put his mouth on the metal in order to get any water. He looked closely at the spout and it appeared to be coated with faint rings of dried milk and something pink that could be lipstick. How many mouths had been on this thing, he wondered with a shudder? Maybe he could spill some water onto his palm and slurp it up from there? But with the minimum trickle of liquid what ever he managed to gather would have to run through the crud encasing the spout. 

"Excuse me?" 

Elliot turned, ready to shout, 'I'm trying to figure something out here. I don't have any time to waste, go away.' 

Jason Tell was standing in front of him. He was dressed in khakis and a brown and cream pinstriped polo shirt. His short sandy blond hair was parted on the side and brushed flat. He reminded Elliot of a buffed little boy ready for the first day of school. 

"I'm here for the interview." He raised a notebook he carried in his hand as if it were a passport. 

Elliot shrugged. 

"You don't know about the interview? I thought you knew everything?" 

"You've mistaken me for someone else. Like someone who gives a damn." 

Jason laughed. "You're funny." 

He'd heard that before. He'd heard that from Vic at the rare moments when they were affectionate and he'd expected to hear _I love you_. 

"Yeah. I get that a lot." He looked back over his shoulder at Vic who was still waiting for the elevator, oblivious to their conversation. 

"Do you know where the conference room is located?" Jason held up his notebook again. There was an agency pass and an appointment card attached to it now. "I'm supposed to meet someone named Diane in the conference room." 

"It's down there." Elliot pointed towards a darkened side corridor. 

"Are you here for the interview, too?" 

"No." Elliot looked at Vic and then at the water fountain. Vic wasn't going to be waiting forever. He had to get his attention. 

"Then why are you here?" 

"I'm trying to catch up with a friend." Elliot bristled at the question, but thought if he answered, Jason might leave. "I'm trying to get his attention, but my throat is too dry. He can't hear me." 

"Your voice sounds fine to me." 

Elliot realized that he had been talking in a perfectly normal tone. His throat felt fine. He smiled and turned away from Jason. 

"Vic! Vic wait." The words came out as little more than a whisper. No matter how he strained the sound was faint and barely audible. 

"See what I mean," he said in a perfectly clear voice as he turned back to Jason. 

Jason shrugged. "You can talk to me." 

Elliot shook his head. "I can't get him to notice me." 

"Why do you need him to notice you?" 

"He's Victor Mansfield." Elliot pointed at him. "Everyone knows that." 

"What happens when he notices you? Does that make you Victor Mansfield?" 

"No." Elliot hesitated. He wasn't really certain what would happen when Victor paid attention to him. "That would make me... well... his friend." 

"And that makes you almost as important as he is?" 

"Look, all I know is, if he knew I was here he'd want to be with me." 

"What are you prepared to do to make him notice you?" 

"Anything." The word rang from Elliot's lips. There was a sweet, pure satisfaction from announcing this that was better than any drug. His commitment and devotion were complete. If only he could make Vic see this, there would be no question that they would be together. If only he could make Vic notice him. 

His dedication didn't seem to impress Jason. "I have my own stuff to do. Why don't you come to the interview with me? There might be some questions you want to ask me, or yourself." 

"I don't have time. I have to find some water." 

Jason shrugged off a gray backpack that Elliot hadn't noticed. He fished around in the sack and then drew out a plastic water bottle. He held it out to Elliot. 

"I have what you need." He smiled a sweet guileless smile that made Elliot want to take his face in his hands and cover it with kisses. 

The elevator hissed open behind him. He grabbed the water bottle and spun around. 

The doors were already parted and Mac Ramsey sauntered out. He hooked Vic by the back of the neck. They stared into each other's eyes. 

Elliot took a long pull from the water bottle. By the time he was through, Mac had already pulled Vic into the elevator. They were kissing and petting, pressed against the back wall. 

"Vic!" Elliot called, and his voice boomed out along the empty corridor. 

Both men in the elevator jumped at the sound. 

"Vic!" Elliot called again. 

Mac looked past Vic, his face scrunched into a frown at the interruption. "What's that?" 

Vic looked back. He looked directly at Elliot. His gaze burned into him. The scorn and disdain in his eyes scorched to Elliot's soul. 

Vic waved a hand dismissively. "Mac, this doesn't matter." 

Elliot awoke with a start. 

Jason was still asleep. The room was silent and the clock on the table between the beds glowed 3:00 am. Elliot strained to hear any sounds coming from the room next door, but was met with a disheartening silence. There was no point sitting here. It wouldn't change anything, and he had so much to undo once everyone was awake. Shake it off, he told himself as he moved to the edge of the bed and sat up. When he finally arose to take a shower it was three forty-five. 

He stood in the shower for a long time, hoping the water would wash away what had happened. As he dried himself off he knew that nothing was going to make things any easier. This had become a recovery operation. The vivid scenes from his dream swam into his consciousness. The image of Jason's invitation to go to the interview played and replayed in his mind. He should have taken him up on it. Now that he was awake there were a lot of things he wanted to ask himself. 

Elliot dressed and left Jason to sleep. It was a little after five and he knew one of the restaurants in the hotel would be open for breakfast. He'd get some coffee to kick start himself, and something bland for Jason. Whatever drugs Jason had been given, Elliot was certain he'd wake up nauseous. He hoped some food would correct that. 

He walked into the nearly empty restaurant. He was buzzy from an overdose of adrenaline from too little sleep and too much emotion. He ordered a double shot latte when he sat down, hoping the caffeine would push his energy passed nervous to a level that would allow him to fully function. When the coffee arrived he gulped down a mouthful, and wished there was something stronger in it. 

Elliot took out a palm pad and made notes for a plan to fix the mess they'd made of this assignment. His plan was tenuous and depended on three wildly unstable variables. He had to make Mac and Vic do exactly what he wanted. That was iffy at best, and after last night would probably constitute a bona fide miracle if he could make it happen. Saint Elliot. It was a little late to impress ex-alter boy Vic with that. Although, there was a time when Vic would have been tempted into a kinky game by the idea. The sinner and the saint would appeal to the religious/erotic bent that Vic tried to keep a secret. 

"Focus, you fucking moron!" he chided under his breath. 

The other two elements were even harder to predict, because they both involved the Director. He might be able to pull things together if she didn't know about the fight, the disregard for their cover and the total screeching halt the assignment had come to. There was a chance she was busy with something else and had not been monitoring their assignment that closely. And there was a chance that trickle down economics might really work. 

Elliot gave a scornful chuckle and took another swallow of coffee. 

Since it was unlikely she was ignoring her prize team, the recovery operation really depended on her letting them slog their way through. Elliot had some hope that this would happen. She'd always had faith in his abilities. She'd created Section Six as a place for him to function within the agency. Besides, the idea must appeal to her sadist queen bee heart. She always loved to see her little drones scramble to repair the hive. 

"Toast?" 

"I am totally toast," Elliot confirmed. 

"I forgot to ask you what kind of toast you want," the waitress said. 

"Oh. Ah, whole wheat." 

* * *

Elliot managed to get back into his room while carrying a carafe of hot water, tea bags, cups, two cartons of milk and three Styrofoam containers filled with uncomfortably hot poached eggs, hash browns and toast. He sat them on the dresser and pulled the plastic utensils and napkins from his suit's pockets. 

The bathroom door clicked open. The moist smell of steam and soap wafted into the room. Jason Tell appeared in the doorway wearing a white bath towel wrapped around his waist. He leaned against the doorframe. His arms raised, he rested his head against the casing and smiled wearily. 

"Hi." 

"Hi," Elliot answered and his voice sounded as unsteady to him as it had in his dream. He couldn't take his gaze off Jason. If Elliot was watching a porn film this would be the moment when he unzipped his pants. Jason was posed in the most erotic stance, yet it appeared so unintended. This was just another part of the unreasonable appeal this guy held. He was so intensely sexy, but seemed unaware of it. Wasn't that the definition of Vic Mansfield, as well? The thought made him look away. 

"I brought some breakfast. I thought you might want to get something in your stomach." He turned and smiled but tried to look past Jason. "So, how are you feeling?" 

Jason sighed. "I shouldn't have taken such a hot shower. I'm pretty wasted." 

"I don't think it was the shower." 

Jason lowered his arms and took a hesitant step towards Elliot. "I don't want you to think I do that all the time --- the drugs or the sex." His voice trailed off and he lowered his head. 

"I got the impression that you couldn't do one without the other." Elliot turned to pick up a cup and fill it with hot water. "I don't want you to think that I was behind what happened. I had the bad judgment to trust Mac's worst judgment." He unwrapped a tea bag and dropped it into the steaming water. "Mac never talked to me. I said he did to be supportive. I didn't know at the time what was going to happen or I would have never agreed." He handed the cup to Jason. 

The other man took it and looked at it for a long moment. When he raised his head his eyes glistened with unshed tears. "You brought me tea. You remembered I drink tea." His voice broke on the last word, and his free hand came up to cover his eyes. 

Elliot wrapped an arm around Jason's shoulder and turned him towards the bed. "Come on, sit down for a minute." 

It didn't take much effort to get him perched on the edge of the bed. After a couple of silent sobs he relaxed. 

"You must think I'm a real loser," Jason said as he sniffed. 

"I think you're someone who's in trouble." 

"Yeah." He turned and smiled faintly. "I'd be in a whole hell of a lot more trouble if you hadn't bailed me out last night. Thanks. I mean that." He leaned in close to Elliot. "Thank you for taking care of me," he whispered before their lips met. 

The sensation rattled Elliot. He knew what was going to happen, he had even wanted it as the handsome face turned towards him. He wasn't prepared, however, for the heady pleasure that was ignited by the kiss. Long before he wanted to, Elliot broke it off. 

"I need to thank you." Jason said, as he moved closer again. 

Elliot stopped him. "You don't have to thank me like that." 

Jason looked surprised. "Don't you want me?" 

"It's not about that. I don't want to be just one more bastard who uses you." 

"I'm offering. I owe you so... ." 

"You don't owe me anything, especially yourself. I'm not into sex as payment, and you shouldn't be either." 

Jason gave a bitter laugh and looked at his tea. "Sometimes you have no choice," he said, and took a sip. 

"You want to talk about it? Maybe I can help you, Jason." 

"Nobody can help me," he said, and studied the cup in his hands. 

Elliot knew all the tricks to get Jason to trust him, but he held back. His primary purpose for bringing the man back last night was to use him to get to DelMar, at least that was what he kept telling himself. Each time he was given an opening to draw Jason in, Elliot shied away. As Jason bowed his head a little more, Elliot had to face the truth. He wanted to help him. He wanted one life that he touched to be saved instead of ruined. 

He put his hand on the back of Jason's neck and scratched his fingertips over the thick short hair. 

"I can help you Jason. I don't know what... ." 

Jason pushed out of his grasp and sat on the bed opposite him. 

"You can't help me! No one can." 

"Jason, give me a chance." 

"No. You don't know what this is about." 

"Then tell me. I can help you. I want to help you." 

Jason calmed a little. "I know you do. You shouldn't." He raised his hand when Elliot started to speak again. "It's too dangerous." 

Elliot was silent for a moment. What did he have left to lose? The assignment was damaged nearly beyond repair, and the Director had so many reasons to reprimand him he couldn't begin to list them all. What was one more mistake? 

He looked at Jason, who stared at the floor. The hand that held the cup trembled slightly. The guy was scared, and had plenty of reason to be. He had been given date rape drugs and treated like human chattel. Elliot knew there was no other choice but to help him, regardless of the consequences. Oh my God, he thought, Vic has turned _me_ into a Boy Scout. 

"Jason I can help you." His voice rose as Jason shook his head no. "I'm not who you think I am. Robert DelMar is no match for me." 

Jason stood and paced the small confines of the room, shaking his head. "You might want to think that, but I know better." 

Elliot caught him in mid-transit. He grasped his shoulders and made the anxious man look at him. "Jason, tell me. Tell me what happened. Tell me what DelMar did to you." 

"If I tell you will you forget about helping me?" He didn't wait for an answer, but placed his hand on Elliot's chest. "I don't know why I like you so much. I liked you from the moment we met. I just don't want you to get hurt." 

Elliot covered Jason's hand with his own. "I told you, that won't happen." 

"You don't know what Bobby can do to people." 

"What did he do to you?" 

Jason looked away again. "I owe him money." 

"For what?" 

"I'm nearly thirty, a modeling career doesn't last that long. I tried to go back to school a couple of years ago, pre-law. I did really well, but I couldn't afford to go to school and not work. I borrowed the tuition from Bobby. After that first year... well... . I'll spend the rest of my life paying it back to him." 

"He's just a two-bit loan shark," Elliot said, tightening his grip on Jason's hand. "I can handle him." 

"No you can't. I had a friend --- we modeled together. He said all I had to do was leave. We went to Mexico. Bobby's thugs found us." Jason looked away. "They beat him so badly he's never been able to work since. He lives with his mother in Arizona. I send him money when I can." 

"What did they do to you?" Elliot asked again, dreading the answer he might hear. 

Jason winced, as if just the memory alone brought him pain. "They turned me over to a sadist. He videotaped everything he did to me. Bobby plays it at private parties. It's the reason I have to be wasted in order to be fucked." 

"Oh, Jason." Elliot moaned as he gathered the other man into his arms. As soon as they embraced, Jason pushed away. 

"I didn't tell you this so you'd feel sorry for me. I don't need pity. I need you to realize that you can't help me. You will not be safe." He beat out each word in the air with a closed fist. Then his head dropped sheepishly before he looked up. "And like I said, I like you. I want you to be around for a while. At least until we find out if you like me too." 

Elliot put one hand on Jason's shoulder. Goddamn Victor Mansfield and his lunatic desire to save the world. No one had warned Elliot that it was a contagious condition. "Sit down. I have to tell you the truth about myself. Then you'll know why we'll both be safe." 

* * *

Elliot eased the door open between the two rooms. His talk with Jason had provided a good alternate plan that he hoped would save all their asses. They needed a foolproof idea, or perhaps a foolish idea with potential since this assignment had produced a glut of fools. Either way, they needed to prepare since they had been summoned to the penthouse suite. "Live and learn, die and burn." The ironic snippet of fatalistic, medieval prayer, that Vic had once told him he'd learned in childhood, repeated in Elliot's mind. It could be the theme of this whole fiasco. 

The light still on by the dresser illuminated the room. Mac lay pressed against Vic, his head cradled on the other man's arm. The bruises on his neck were nearly black. The side of Vic's face was dusted with a purplish shadow that grew progressively darker until his ear was tipped with indigo. 

Elliot cleared his throat and Vic blinked, coming quickly awake. He took a deep breath and nodded at Elliot. Then he stretched as best he could in the confines of Mac's embrace. 

Mac stirred as well, a lascivious smile spreading across his lips despite the fact his eyes were still closed. 

"You want more?" He purred and ground himself against Vic. 

"Mac." Vic tried to gently push him away. 

Mac tightened his hold and laughed. "You get rid of that pee-hard and I'll give you anything you want." 

"Mac, stop." Vic pushed him further away. 

"Don't tell me to stop." His eyes came open and he frowned. 

"We have company." 

Mac jerked around. "Oh, fuck." He glared at Elliot. "What the hell do you want?" 

"I want to take your room service order. What do you think I want?" 

"Vic?" Mac challenged as he sat up and propped himself against the headboard. "Vic's the one you've always wanted." 

Elliot felt the cords tighten in at the back of his neck. "All I want is to get this fucked up mess over with and as far away from you as possible." 

"Fine! There's the door." Mac's arm shot out in the direction of Elliot's room. 

"Mac, stop it." Vic sat up and put his hand on Mac's chest. "We have to get back on... ." His hand flashed into a fist and hit the bed. "God damnit! I didn't call Ivy and tell her I wouldn't be back." He hit the mattress in three successive blows. "God damnit!" 

"You don't have to bother. Ivy called me a few minutes ago." Elliot told him. 

"Checking up on her wayward husband?" Mac grinned at Vic, who frowned in return. 

"You both need to get dressed so we can go upstairs. The Director is waiting for us." 

"Ivy! That bitch!" Mac wadded the edge of the blanket in his fist. "She called the Director on us?" 

"Mac, shut up," Vic told him. "We've got to think of something." He looked up at Elliot. "We need a plan, something to make this right before we see her." 

"I've got an idea." Elliot looked skeptically at Mac. "But there has to be full cooperation to make it work." 

"You've got it." Vic leaned forward, appearing eager to hear the strategy. 

"Mac?" Elliot prompted. 

"You got a problem with me?" 

"Not if you follow my orders." 

Mac's mouth twisted into a sneer. 

Vic put his hand on the other man's chest and stared at him. "Mac is fine with this Elliot. We can count on Mac. Can't we, Mac?" 

Mac shrugged. "Yeah, sure. Whatever." He pushed Vic's hand away. "The Director is going to have our balls for this anyway." He looked over at Elliot. "Those of us that still have them." 

Vic raised a finger at him, but Mac waved him off. 

"DelMar is using Jason as a courier." Elliot told them. "He has a pick up this afternoon at a prominent brokerage house in the financial district. He delivers a satchel of money from DelMar and receives in return the hottest, most inside information on what stock is about to become golden." 

"The insider-trading angle." Vic nodded his agreement. 

"Jason brings the tips back to us and we bring Jason in." 

"In where?" Mac asked. 

"I want to bring Jason into the agency." 

"Elliot you can't do that." Vic was smiling at him like he was a misguided child. 

"You brought Ivy in." 

"And it was almost the last thing I ever did. The only reason the Director allowed it was because she saw something in Ivy she could use." 

"I'll find something in Jason she can use." 

"Aren't we in enough trouble?" Mac asked. 

"Thanks to you, yeah." 

"You two knock it off." Vic raised his hand and stopped the bickering. "We'll try to sell the Director on this inside trading angle, and then we can talk to her about Jason." 

"Speaking of talking to someone. Tell him, Vic." Mac pointed at Elliot. 

Vic stared at Mac, nonplussed. 

"Not now." 

"Yes, right now. You promised me." Mac's narrowed eyes said the last words were a threat not a reminder. 

Victor turned slowly to face Elliot. 

"I'm glad you agree with me Vic." That sounded lame even to Elliot. If he could only get Vic on his side this one last time he could avoid the final humiliation that Mac so obviously wanted. "We have work to do." 

"Victor." Mac's voice escalated the name into a demand. 

Elliot watched helplessly as Vic dipped his head. He could be the most stubborn single-minded person in the world. But, like now, it was amazing how willingly he let Mac lead him in circles as if he were a horse in a circus ring. 

"We need to finalize the plan." Elliot continued, trying to sound in-charge instead of releasing the scared plea that beat a tattoo in his heart. "There's a lot we have to do, and not that much time." His gaze followed Mac's hand as it clamped onto Vic's wrist. "We can talk about this later. When we're alone." 

"That's impossible." Mac raised his free hand and wagged a finger at him. "Because you are _never_ going to be alone with him again. Tell him, Vic." 

Vic looked up but only held his gaze for a second. "I'm sorry, Elliot." 

"You're the only one who is." Vic actually looked startled by the lack of regret his words carried. Elliot hoped he could cut short Mac's floorshow if he pretended not to care. 

Vic's eyes narrowed. It seemed to be working. Whatever sad little speech he had wanted to give to buffer their breakup was shelved. 

"I can't see you anymore." He looked over to Mac who wore a self-satisfied smirk. "Can we get to work now?" He demanded. 

"You understand, Elliot?" Mac barely had the words out when Vic grabbed his arm. 

"Stop it, Mac. Stop it right now! I said it. It's over. Now, leave him alone." 

Heat flashed over Elliot. "And if he leaves _you_ alone, Vic," he watched Vic turn and nearly smile at the thought that Elliot was still offering to be there and pick up the pieces, "don't come looking for me, because I only make a mistake once." He turned before he had to see the familiar anger registered on Vic's face, and left the room. 

* * *

Elliot had stood in front of the closed door for what felt like forever. His hand rested on the knob until the metal grew warm in his grasp. Still, he couldn't move for fear of the scorn that had to wait for him on the other side. Finally, he opened the connecting hotel doors. He jumped at the click of the lock turning, the noise echoing like a gunshot in the tense silence that surrounded him. 

Mac twisted around at the intrusion, as he buttoned his shirt. 

"Don't they knock on whatever planet you're from?" 

Vic was sitting on the edge of the bed tying his shoes. He looked up at Elliot, an eager intensity lighting his face. 

"We'll be ready in a second. We just have to stick together on this. She has no leverage if we work together." 

The blood rushed and crashed in Elliot's ears. A wall of white noise made Vic's words sound like gibberish. He took a small, nearly painful breath and tried to remember how to speak. His voice sounded remarkably steady, if a little flat, when he told them. 

"Jason is gone." 

Vic blinked. His lips moved soundlessly, repeating the words as if trying to translate a foreign language. Then he looked at the floor and shook his head. 

"We are so fucking screwed." 

* * *

TITLE: Section Six Part IX   
AUTHOR: LEFEY   
FANDOM: Once A Thief   
PAIRING: Vic/Mac/others   
RATING: PG 13 Language   
STATUS: WIP   
ARCHIVE: ARCHIVE: RatB, Calculated Risks http://denofsin.slashcity.tv/~lefey   
FEEDBACK: Please. [email removed]   
DISCLAIMER: They belong to John Woo and Alliance.   
THANKS: Kest and Nicole for the encouragement and best beta ever.   
SUMMARY: Vic and Mac go undercover with operatives from Section Six, the agencies sexual experts.   
---


	10. 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vic and Mac go undercover with operatives from Section Six, the agencies sexual experts.

  
**Section Six**

Part Ten   
by LeFey 

  
Mac was nervous; he wouldn't stop snarking at Elliot as they walked down the hall to the penthouse suite Vic had shared with Ivy. Vic knew this was just Mac's way of coping, coping with the bungled assignment, the Director waiting for them, and the nearness of Vic's sometimes lover, Elliot. This knowledge didn't make it any less irritating. At this stage, it was disappointing as well. Vic hoped they were passed this. After the fight and the incredible make-up sex, they had talked late into the night until they had each, in turn, fallen asleep in mid-sentence. Vic thought they had settled some things, but since Mac was still reacting to Elliot, there was no denying that his anger wasn't sated. 

"I'm not taking the blame for this," Mac vowed. He pointed towards the door at the end of the hall where the Director waited, on the other side, to mete out judgment. 

"This isn't about blame," Elliot repeated for the third time. 

"Don't bother to answer him." Vic sighed. "It just keeps him going." 

"I knew you'd take his side." Mac shook his finger in Vic's face. 

"Funny, I was going to say the same thing." Elliot frowned at Vic. 

Vic turned and stopped. "Fine!" His hands balled into fists. "You keep goading each other, and trying to pin the blame on... ." 

"I never said anyone is to blame," Elliot emphasized. 

Mac took a step towards him. "Convenient memory. I remember you saying that if I blew this case you'd hang me out to dry with the Director." 

Elliot pointed an accusing finger at Mac. "So, you admit that you blew this case." 

Mac lunged at Elliot, but Vic intercepted him in motion, and pushed him against the corridor wall. "Stop it, Mac! Just fucking stop it." Mac squirmed in his grasp, but Vic pressed him against the wall. "If I hear one more Goddamn thing come out of your mouth I'm going to stick a gun in it." 

Vic leaned closer and his voice dropped. "I know how much I hurt you." Mac wouldn't look at him, but glared at Elliot. "I know you want to hurt somebody back, but Mac, this is going to hurt all of us. We have to cover each other when we walk in there, otherwise, she's going to shred us. You did blow the assignment." Mac snapped his attention back to Vic, and his face froze in a mask of bitter anger. "I blew my part, too. So did Elliot. At this point we've all failed, and she's not going to single out one of us. That's the only advantage we have. We stick together, and keep telling her that we need to get back on track, and maybe we can come out of this with our hides." 

Mac twisted away, and Vic let him go. 

"Mac?" 

"Whatever!" He jerked his hand up in an angry swipe. 

"Now can we get this over with?" Elliott sighed. 

Vic stepped forward until they stood toe to toe. "And you, pal, drop the act. You're a thief and a whore the same as we are. You're in the same kind of trouble right now. Do us all a favor, no more clever remarks. No more baiting Mac, and stop playing your favorite game of proving how much smarter you are than the rest of us." 

Elliot glanced away, but then nodded. "You don't have to worry about me, Vic. I've always been there for you." He looked pointedly at Mac. 

Vic threw up his arms. "You two just can't help yourselves. I might as well go in there on my knees, hand her a dildo and show her my ass, because that's what's going to happen with partners like you at my back." 

Mac stared at Elliot for a long moment. "That's your influence, not mine. He never talked like that before he met you." 

Elliot rolled his eyes. "It's not me, Diva. You're his inspiration for all those sick, power-sex games you mire yourselves in." 

"That's it!" Vic shouted. "Just know one thing. Whatever the Director does I will personally do something ten times worse to each of you. Is that incentive enough for both of you to come back to fucking reality?" Vic jerked a shrug. "Probably not." He stormed off towards the penthouse door. 

Elliot cocked an eyebrow. "Christ, that temper!" 

Mac mimicked the gesture. "You don't have to tell me." 

As they entered the luxurious suite Mac whispered, "Nice digs, man. So glad they put Elliot and me in connecting broom closets." 

Vic didn't acknowledge the remark. He was too surprised to see LiAnn standing next to the Director. All three women, Ivy, LiAnn and the Director, were frozen in the same pose. Lined up along the back of the couch, arms folded across their chest, they glared out a judgmental anger. 

"The Trinity." Vic said under his breath. He had moved far enough into the room for the Director and her bat ears to hear him, and she broke from the ranks. 

"Oh Victor, you are going to wish you only had the wrath of God to contend with." 

"We can explain everything," Mac blurted out. Vic grabbed his wrist, but he shook him off. 

The Director leaned her head back. She reminded Vic of a snake about to strike. 

"Do you really want to talk to me right now, Mr. Ramsey?" 

Mac swallowed, and looked at the floor. "No, I guess not." 

"That makes you the smart one." She glanced at each man. "Isn't that pathetic?" She turned and slowly moved away from them. Vic took the opportunity to nudge Mac and scowl, trying to emphasis, again, that he really needed to keep his mouth shut. 

"When I first received the phone call last night..." 

"Yeah," Mac interrupted, "thanks one whole hell of a lot, Ivy." 

"Fuck you." 

"Bitch!" 

"Shut up!" Vic turned and pushed Mac, hard, in the shoulder. "Shut up, damn it!" 

Mac pushed him back. "Are you going to let her... ?" 

"I called." LiAnn's voice cut into the argument. "I'm the one who called the Director." 

Vic stood open mouthed for a moment. "Why?" he finally managed. 

"I was worried about you. You were so insanely angry when you saw Mac that I didn't know what was going to happen. I was worried about both of you." 

"Seems she had good reason to be worried." The Director was standing in front of them again, and she smiled. Vic knew that was always a bad sign. "You boys looked in a mirror this morning?" 

Her hand darted out, and Mac winced as she poked one of the dark bruises on his neck. 

"Hey!" He gingerly touched the injured spot. 

"Victor, you really need to use a lighter hand on the choke chain. Everyone understands though. We've all wanted to strangle him at one time or another." 

"Very funny." There was only one way to deal with the Director when she was in this attack and destroy mode. Vic knew he had to stand up to her. "We all get it. You're going to make our lives a living hell. Not particularly original, just what you do best. But don't you think we should get this assignment out of the way first?" 

"Assignment?" The Director laughed. That was an even worse sign. "You were on an assignment? I'm sorry, Victor, but I couldn't tell. I thought you were on some sort of primal scream couples retreat for the last twenty-four hours. By the way, I like this graduated, air brushed effect on the side of your face. Did you get this as a remembrance of your time together, instead of Mac's name tattooed on your arm?" 

"Look we're here and ... ." 

"And you're queer," she finished for him. "Oh I'm sorry, I thought that was what you were finally going to have the stones to tell us. But it is nice that you're here. Romantic really." She looked around at everyone in the room, a venomous smile on her lips. "With all of you here I just have to ask, is there anyone in this room who hasn't had sex with Victor?" Her hand came to rest over her heart. "I didn't think so." 

"Ah!" Mac gasped out the surprised exclamation as he looked between Vic and the Director. "Wha... What?" He stammered. "When?" 

"I don't believe this!" LiAnn's voice rose in equal shock. 

"It was a long time ago!" There was no winning with the Director. Vic knew he'd been a fool to do anything but stand silently by, as Elliot was doing. "It was before either of you ever came on board." Mac and LiAnn were both shaking their heads. "It was when she first brought me in." 

The Director ran her hand slowly down her body. "Oh, and I brought him in, in every way imaginable." 

"Excuse me, reality check," Elliot said. "While you're busy pulling the wings off the flies, this mission is getting further away from being a success." 

"Elliot, how nice of you to contribute. Speaking of getting away, where's your little friend?" 

Elliot blinked. Vic could see he hadn't expected that. 

"Gone." 

"Gone? I see. And how much does he know?" 

He looked away. "Everything." 

"This amazes me, it truly does. You want to defer blame for the failure of this assignment to me, because I'm having a few words with my team. When in actuality, Vic and Mac's petty jealousy has all but destroyed this mission. And you, you Elliot, confide classified Agency information to someone who is working for the target of this assignment. What were you going to do with your new toy? Bring him to this meeting and tell me, 'He followed me home. Can I keep him?'" 

Mac snickered and the Director glared at him. "Do you want to share what could possibly be, even remotely, funny about this situation?" 

Mac swallowed and took a step back from her. "No, but thanks for asking." 

"What we want," Vic said, "is to make this assignment work." 

"I expected more from you, Victor." She glanced at Mac. "But I shouldn't be surprised." 

"We can make this work," Vic continued, trying to ignore the guilt she was so good at eliciting from him. 

"We need to find Jason," Elliot said. 

"Oh, I know where Jason is," the Director told him. "I provided backup for you and. . . ." 

"You sent someone to follow us?" Heat flashed over Victor. 

"Good thing I did. He's now following Jason who has taken a cab, apparently, back to DelMar's office." 

Elliot grabbed Vic's arm. "We have to help him. He's going to try to do this by himself." 

"We have a plan." Vic told the Director. 

"Had a plan," she corrected. 

Elliot turned back to the Director. "DelMar is using Jason as a courier. He's going to deliver a pay-off to Kingston and Fisher brokerage in exchange for insider trading information. He's going back to DelMar to get the money." 

"What makes you think he isn't going to DelMar to tell him everything he knows about the assignment?" the Director asked. 

"He wants out. He's indentured to DelMar and the guy has abused him." 

"I investigated Mr. Tell before you started this assignment. I know all about what DelMar has put him through." She glanced at Vic. "I would have thought this wounded bird thing is more to your taste, Victor. But then, you'd have to confess some things I'm willing to bet we'll never hear from you." She began to pace in front of them. "I'm still not convinced that Tell won't take the information to DelMar." 

"He left because he's afraid of DelMar. He's afraid of what might happen to me. Jason is trying to protect me." 

She stopped and smiled at Elliot. "Now, that wasn't so difficult to admit was it?" 

'You bitch,' was very nearly out of Victor's mouth when Mac spoke. 

"This whole scene is a little self-indulgent even for you, isn't it? Shouldn't it be work first and humiliation after?" 

"How noble, protecting the man who has tried, on countless occasions, to steal your boyfriend away. Well, if you insist on putting up this trite united front I'll just have to split you up. 

"Ivy has been busy" The Director continued. "When you didn't call last night, Vic... ." 

"I meant to call," Vic told Ivy, as an embarrassing guilt burned across his cheeks. "I... I... just forgot." 

She only glanced at him. "Yeah, sure. You always mean to do a lot of things." 

The Director snapped her fingers in the air. "Later. Betty and Veronica can patch up their little spat later. Ivy has a brunch date with Cal Rutherford. She called him last night after her husband roughed her up." 

Victor snorted in disgust. 

"It seems that when you get angry, Victor, you take it out on your lovely wife. Mr. Rutherford is gallant enough to want to take Ivy away from all this." 

"He wants out of DelMar's organization," Ivy corrected. "If I get an hour alone with him he'll roll on DelMar." She shrugged as she finished, and still wouldn't look at Vic. 

"That's good work, Ivy," Elliot said, with a faint smile. 

She fixed him with a cold stare, her jaw working under her pale skin. "Yeah, I do a pretty good job by myself. I think I want to keep it that way." 

"We're a good team," Elliot told her. "We can work this out." 

"We'll discuss that later, as well." The Director looked between the two of them. "I'm just grateful that at least one of you is doing the job. As I was saying, Ivy is meeting Cal Rutherford who should provide all the financial evidence we need to take Mr. DelMar out of the picture." 

"Then you don't want to work the insider-trading angle?" Elliot asked. 

"Of course I do. And while you were all acting like characters in a French farce LiAnn was gathering information at last night's party. The drop off point for the insider trading tips Elliot's toy boy will be carrying is Satyr Video. So, we pick up the evidence and DelMar in one raid, exposing him as a pornographer at the same time. Not only will he be in legal trouble; he will be disgraced as well." 

"Hold on," Vic put out a hand to stop her. "If you get too public when you take down DelMar then everybody is going to know about Stephan Canlan and... and..." Amused shock spread a smile across Vic's face. "This was your plan from the beginning. DelMar's just a pawn. You took this assignment so you could keep Roger Canlan from becoming Prime Minister." 

"That's my bright boy. But Victor, please. I don't meddle in politics; it's beneath me. Remember that I didn't take this assignment, it was pressed upon me. If Roger Canlan is doing that sort of thing before he even gets elected we won't have a moment's peace if he becomes Prime Minister." 

"You're subverting the political process." Vic pointed off into the distance where he could imagine the Director stuffing, stealing or emptying ballot boxes. "You're interfering with the election of the Prime Minister." 

"Roger Canlan is interfering with my Agency." She leaned close to Vic. "And I will not tolerate that." 

Vic leaned close as well, until their noses were almost touching. "What happens when that shadowy branch of the government that funds this kingdom of yours finds out you deliberately threw this assignment?" 

She leaned away. "It's not a kingdom, Victor. I like to think of my rule as a matriarchal autocracy. When Canlan falls, so do a lot of his associates. Those who remain are much more sympathetic to the goals, and the autonomy of this agency." She smiled again. "We've been planning this for some time, now." 

"You still failed. The mission failed on your watch." Mac said. 

The Director waved her hand dismissively. "You failed, Mac. Victor failed, and Elliot failed. It's sad that such exemplary agents just couldn't make things work because of the sexual tension between them. Then, that's not something your run of the mill lawmaker will want to explore in an open hearing. So, you see, from every angle the Agency comes out clean on this one. It's a don't ask, don't tell situation on every level." 

Ivy looked at her watch. "I need to leave." 

The Director nodded. "Call me when you get Rutherford back to the Agency." 

Ivy nodded back and walked passed her. As she neared, Vic reached out and took her hand. He felt a tremble in her chilled fingers as he touched her. She only glanced at him, and then gently pulled away. 

"Ivy I... ." 

"Not now, Vic." She kept walking. "I'll call you. If I don't forget." She left the room. 

Victor lowered his head. This was too familiar. He'd abandoned her again, without knowing it, and without meaning to. 

"Snap out of it, Victor." The Director waved her hand in front of his face, and he jerked back a step. "She'll call you. She just has to get the taste of this assignment out of her mouth." 

"Who can blame her," Elliot said softly. 

"You're the one who should worry." The Director stepped beside him. "She wants me to transfer her to Paris, and she doesn't even speak French. One of my best agents wants to leave me because of something her partner has done." 

Elliot pursed his lips and glanced down. "I'll talk to her. She'll change her mind." 

The Director leaned close, cocked her head and cupped a hand to her ear. "You'll what?" 

"I'll apologize." Elliot threw up his hands and stared at her. "Okay? I'll apologize and grovel and promise that I'll never lie to her again. Satisfied?" The last word boomed in a crescendo of frustration. 

The Director let out a contented sigh. "It's a start." 

Mac tapped his watch. "Assignment? Election tampering? World domination time." 

"How refreshing, Mac. You actually want to work." 

Mac grinned an infuriatingly false smile. "Twenty-four, seven." 

The Director only scowled in response. "LiAnn, go back to DelMar's office and download as many files as you can manage without being detected. Look for financial records, double sets of books and the like. See if you can find anything on the premises that will link DelMar directly to Satyr Studios." 

Vic grabbed LiAnn by the arm as she walked passed. He glared at the Director. "You're serious. You're going to split us up." 

"Victor calm down." LiAnn ran her hand over the back of his head and pulled him to her. She rested her forehead against his. "I have things to finish up. Things I've been working on, by myself, since we started this one. We're still partners." She glanced at the Director. "We'll talk later. Take the time to come up with something good, because this one is really hard to accept." She turned back to Vic and puckered her lips. She paused, then leaned away and studied him for a moment. "I'd kiss you, but your face looks as if it hurts like hell." She smoothed the front of his hair with her fingers. "Just do what you need to do, and we'll get through this one like we have all the others." Her hand shot out and caught Mac in the ribs, nearly doubling him. "And don't let anyone distract you." 

Mac straightened hugging his sides. "What the hell was that for?" 

LiAnn looked at the Director and shrugged. "I told you. Nothing is ever his fault." She kissed the tip of her finger and pressed it gingerly to Vic's parted lips. "Have to run." She smiled and left the room. 

"Let's recap." The Director held up her hand and bent down a pair of fingers, "That makes two female agents operating at peak efficiency," her hand jerked in a throwaway motion, "and then there's you three." 

Vic crossed his arms over his chest and leaned away from her. "Can you actually be transferred?" His eyes narrowed with disbelief. "Because right now, I'd settle for Moose Jaw." 

"One may be transferred, but you can't. Slaves have to be sold." 

"Why did she do that?" Mac looked back towards the door and rubbed the spot LiAnn had hit. 

"Mac, shut up!" the Director, Elliot and Vic said in unison. 

The Director snagged a cell phone from the end table next to the couch. "Elliot, contact Pearson. He's number one on speed dial. He's following Jason Tell. Catch up with him, and be certain that your boy makes the delivery to DelMar. Vic and Mac will meet you at Satyr Studios as backup." 

Elliot took the phone. "We need to talk about Jason." 

"Make this work and we'll talk. That's all I'm offering." 

"We're back up?" Mac said with a frown. "Just backup, after all we've done?" 

The Director jerked around to stare at him. "After all you've done, Mr. Ramsey, you should be dog food. Have I told you that Dobrinsky has a new pit bull? He seems to be having training problems with him. Perhaps an hour alone with you with a pork chop tied around your neck, and everyone's problems will be solved." 

"May I leave?" Elliot waved the phone at the Director. 

She motioned him away. 

"Moose Jaw, eh?" he said as he passed Vic. "Right now I'd trade this job for a cardboard box in a pee-soaked alley." 

"That can be arranged." The Director tapped her foot with a displeased rhythm as she watched him leave. "This business is full of Prima Donnas." The door clicked shut and he was gone. 

"Hello, kettle... ." Mac chided. 

"Why are you still here?" She glared at Mac, but then turned to Vic. "Make this work Victor. I know that you can." 

Vic shook his head. "I want a long vacation out of this one." 

"Why are we the backup?" Mac started to hold out his hand, ready to tick off on his fingers all the points that would make this latest demotion nonsense. 

Vic took his hand and turned him towards the door. "Go back down to your room and wait for me. I'll be there in a minute." 

"But... ." 

Vic pushed him closer to the door. "Mac, just do what I say for once. I'm going to get my own clothes, and then I'll be there." 

He had the door open, and nudged Mac out into the hall. "I'll be five minutes tops." He kissed Mac as yet another protest began. Vic shut the door and strode back towards the bedroom. 

When he walked through the double doors he saw the Director sitting on the bed. She had his clothes draped across her lap. 

"Are these what you're after?" She held up the well-worn jeans. 

Vic snatched them from her and motioned towards the doors. "You mind?" 

"I've never minded before Victor. Go ahead." 

"You had no right or reason to tell them about us." 

"I was feeling left out. I wanted to be an FOV; Friend of Victor's too. I thought it might all end in a nice big group hug." 

"You wanted to punish me, like always." Victor stripped off the tailored linen shirt. There was no real reason to pretend modesty around her. She'd seen him naked, dressed in leather and studs, and even on all fours gleaming in gold body paint and a bejeweled dog collar. She had initiated him into more than just the Agency when he'd first arrived. The Director had opened the door to a world of kinkiness that he was ashamed to admit he found exhilarating. 

"Victor, you are the responsible one. The example you set, the other children follow. What does it teach them when you... ." 

"Don't you ever get tired of hearing yourself talk?" He threw the shirt down on the bed beside her. "I give you one hundred and ten percent and all you've ever given me are snide remarks." 

"Things weren't always like this, Victor." She reached out and snagged the buckle on his belt. Despite the anger that still glowed hot on his skin, he let her pull him towards her. "I remember a time when we had a very special relationship." 

Vic batted her hands away as she tried to undo his belt. "Yeah, thanks. And now I have to explain that to Mac." He waved a hand towards the door. "And to LiAnn, for god's sake! And what the hell did that look between the two of you mean?" 

"Ah, LiAnn. That was nice for you too, wasn't it? I was growing bored. Not your fault. I have an appetite control problem when it comes to men. So, I gave you this exotic young beauty who thought you were the Second Coming, or whatever the Buddhist equivalent is. Ah, that was a golden time. You were my favorite operative and you were LiAnn's true love. No man could want for more attention than you received from the two of us." 

A creeping anger tingled up his spine. It spread out to fire his nerves with jealousy. No matter what happened in the future there would never be a time like that again. He had been the center of attention. He had been powerful, brilliantand loved. Then he lost it all to an interloper. 

He took a step back from her and toed off his shoes, then undid his belt and dropped his pants. He stepped into his jeans and jerked them up. The memory of how his life had been shattered with Mac's arrival burned through him. 

"Now who was it," the Director continued, "that stole our attention away? Oh, yes!" She raised one perfectly manicured nail. "It was your paramour, Mac Ramsey." 

"Really?" Vic buckled his belt and tried to fight the resentment that still cried out to be fed. "I saw what you did to Mac a few minutes ago. What you're doing now is no big surprise." He jerked the denim shirt from her hands. "I already knew that you get a kick out of poking at sores." 

"So, it's still a sore point, hmm?" The Director nodded her head. "I understand completely. The good boy is ignored while the bad boy gets all the attention." 

Vic turned his back on her and put on his shirt. She was just going to trash Mac again. It seemed to be her fad of the moment. She hoped to rekindle old jealousies so he would join in. If there was anyone he should be angry with it was the Director. She was the one who introduced the snake into the garden. Vic shook his head. He hadn't thought of Mac that way for a long time. He wasn't going to give in to the temptation, though, and join her in a rousing game of what's wrong with Mac Ramsey. Besides, it rang false when she trusted Mac with the most sensitive assignments, assignments she knew that only he could complete. She only ragged on him because she couldn't control him completely. He wouldn't kowtow to her, and Victor knew that just fried her. 

"I gave Mac more credit than he deserved. But that's just me. I expect everyone to be at my level." 

Vic laughed as he reached in the closet to get his boots. "That's it. You're never wrong. He just didn't live up to expectations. Another agent lets you down again." 

"Actually, Victor, I felt as if I had let you down. That's why I thought I could make it up to you with Elliot." 

Vic nearly fell as he swung around one boot half on, his foot in the air as he tugged. 

"You... you.. What?" he stammered. "You mean... ah... Christ! I was just another one of Elliot's fuck assignments?" He stomped his foot into the boot and stood up. 

"You were never an assignment to Elliot. He's really very fond of you." 

"But you sicked him on me. 'Go screw with Vic. Pretend you like him.'" 

"He never pretended." 

"'Give me one more way that I can manipulate and control him.'" Victor paced across the room, anger and embarrassment pulsing in him. 

"Victor, I wanted to give you another option. I'd let things go as long as I did because I'd hoped that you would influence Mac. You're the man he'd like to be, responsible, thoughtful and moral. Most of his caustic remarks are just hidden confessions that he knows he can never be as good as you. Instead of swaying him, however, you seem to be drawn to this element of hedonistic risk that is the backbone of his irksome personality." She gave an exasperated wave of her hand. "He isn't having as much fun as you seem to think you're missing." 

"So, you threw Elliot at me to break us up." He grabbed the dress slacks from the floor and threw them. The buckle on the belt cracked against the mirrored door of the closet, leaving a tiny fissure. 

"Please, Victor. We're not rock stars trashing hotel rooms." The Director walked to the closet and picked up the pants. She rubbed the scratch on the mirror with her fingertip. "I didn't have to throw Elliot at you," she said as she straightened. "You seemed more than happy to be with someone your own emotional age." 

"No!" Vic pointed a warning finger at her. "I wouldn't have been with him at all if you hadn't put him up to it." 

"Victor, I never put him up to anything." The Director took a hanger from the closet and arranged Victor's pants on it. "I merely observed the attraction he had for you, the way you responded to him on your birthday, and I simply created opportunity for both of you." She hung the slacks in the closet. "You're not going to be able to find excuses outside yourself for why you were with Elliot." 

"And your meddling isn't an excuse? I can't believe you're not taking the credit for this one." 

"I just wanted to give you a chance to grow. Elliot is the kind of person who can broaden your horizons. Mac Ramsey can only teach you the fine art of underachieving. You are my best agent, Victor, and I'm not going to let anyone make you less than who I know you can be." 

Victor put his hands over his mouth and threw his head back. He was tired, angry and ready to walk. He laughed out of desperation. He looked at the Director and let his arms fall to his sides. "We're only who you let us be, aren't we? My Birthday." He laughed again. "I'd heard rumors that there were tapes of my present floating around. You manipulate everyone and Adam's cat at the Agency. You influence national elections. Why should I think I'd have any say over my own sex life?" 

"Oh Victor, please!" She slid shut the mirrored closet door with a bang. "Do you really think I care who you sleep with, or who I watch you sleep with? I'm talking about your emotional life, your professional life. You and Elliot make a good team, you are simpatico. I could see you going on to do very important work together. With Mac you can only look forward to being the recipient of one reprimand after another from me. Is that your idea of a valuable life?" 

It suddenly all fell into place. 'Reprimands from me...' 'you and Mac.' The light came on like dawn on a snowy day. Vic realized this wasn't about what was best for his career. It wasn't even about Mac and his lapses of judgment, and it had never really been about Elliot, at all. This was, as it was in the beginning and always will be, about the Director. 

"Let me make sure I understand this." He began to button his shirt. "Especially since you think I've been dumbed-down by my time with Mac." 

The Director raised an eyebrow and nodded. 

Vic went to the closet, picked up his other boot and pulled it on. "You think I'd be happier with Elliot because he could help me reach my true potential." 

"Absolutely." 

"You sure?" Victor grinned at her as he tucked his shirt in. "You sure it's not because if you make me be a good boy with Elliot, then you won't have two bad boys to get in your face?" 

She blinked. He had her. Vic clapped his hands together. "That's it, isn't it? Jesus, I can't believe it! Well, actually I can." He rubbed his hands together as the Director frowned and crossed her arms. "This is so like you. You really could care less whether I'm fucking Elliot, Mac or a knothole. What really frosts your ass is when Mac, LiAnn and I stand up to you together. That's what this is about. Once Mac and I stopped fighting you lost the advantage." 

"And your team lost its edge." 

"No. We just figured out how to play you instead of letting you play each of us off against the other." Victor slid open the closet door and pulled his leather jacket from a hanger. 

"I have invested a great deal of time and money in Mac Ramsey. As of today that investment has not paid off. If I don't see some return soon I'm just going to have to cut my losses." 

Victor turned. He'd won this one, but she wasn't going to admit it. Her mouth was drawn into a tense line. He knew the look. She was going to get even. 

"If anything happens to Mac I'll show you what my potential is. If he's sent away, or if he's hurt, or you cause him to be hurt, you won't have to worry about your investment. You'll be dead." 

"Don't threaten me Victor." 

"Oh, it's not a threat; it's a promise." He'd never meant anything more in his life. He could see by the tiny narrowing of her eyes that she knew this too. 

"Then I should make a promise as well. Apparently, it now falls to me to see to it that Mac has a long and fruitful career with the Agency. I've learned that if you want a job done right you delegate, and make it someone else's problem. As of this moment, Victor, Mac's future is all up to you. You bring him into line or, I guess, we all suffer the consequences." 

She'd done it again. She was a master at knocking the wind out of him. He drew in a deep breath as the enormity of what she'd just saddled him with sunk in. 

"You planned all this out, too." He might as well have said 'you win' by the small, pleased smile it prompted from her. 

"Of course I did. What do you think I do, Victor, get up in the morning and hope I get through to the end of the day? I leave nothing to chance. That's why Mac Ramsey is always such an irritating unknown factor." 

Vic grabbed the bottom of his jacket and whipped it against the wall. "God you did this all on purpose!" 

"Victor, you should be happy about this. I'm convinced. You've finally convinced me that you and Mac belong together. I offered you Elliot, and that never really went anywhere. Then I tempted you with Ivy... ." 

He pointed a warning finger at her. "I knew that was a setup." 

The Director shrugged and gave a sad shake of her head. "Unfortunately, she turned out to be the one set-up. Poor Ivy, she is genuinely fond of you, as well. So much desire from so many people." The Director made an all encompassing sweep with her hand. "And the only one you want is Mac Ramsey. Well, now you have him. He's your charge, and his value as an agent is in your hands. Don't let yourself down." 

"This isn't fair!" Vic clutched at his jacket trying to keep from striking out at her. 

"Victor?" She cocked her head as if she couldn't understand his protest. "Life." She waved her hand dismissively. "You know. Isn't. Besides, if you want to keep a pet you have to be the one to take care of him." 

There was no winning with her. He was certain that was going to be the epithet chiseled on his headstone. But why wait? He'd get _that_ tattooed on his reamed ass to commemorate the last couple of fun filled days. Victor bent his head from side to side trying to stretch out the anger that knotted his neck. He finally looked at her. Thankfully she wasn't gloating. "Like I said, you owe me a big, long, expensive vacation for this one." 

"Go, Victor." She stepped to the bed and picked up his discarded dress shirt. "You have an assignment to complete." She draped the shirt over her arm. "And I have so many things to cross off my to-do list." 

Victor scowled and shook his head. 

"Oh Victor don't sulk. I hate it when you sulk. I don't expect the world; we _are_ dealing with Mac Ramsey, after all. I just want a little attitude adjustment." 

Vic shrugged into his leather jacket and turned to leave. 

"I want you to guide Mac." She called after him. "But you could take his advise on clothes." 

The door slammed shut. 

"Prima Donnas! I'm surrounded by Prima Donnas." 

* * *

Jason Tell waited impatiently for the elevator to return to the top floor of the House of DelMar. He'd forgotten his jacket, in DelMar's office, after he'd gotten his instructions. It wasn't surprising. He felt like crap. There was a dull ache behind his eyes, and he was a little shaky. Still, the food Elliot gave him had helped to settle his stomach. Elliot had been great to him. He was going to show his appreciation by turning DelMar in, while keeping Elliot as far away from danger as possible. 

He stepped out of the elevator as soon as the doors hissed open. He had to get back fast. Stephan Canlan had been at the meeting and he could just see that little piece of shit walking away with his jacket and then pretending he didn't know anything about it later. 

Tess wasn't at the reception desk as he neared and the door to DelMar's office was ajar. This was good. He'd avoid any of her questions and just slip in, take whatever nasty remarks that he knew he'd hear about leaving his jacket, and get out as quickly as he could. 

As he reached the door he heard voices. He recognized them all, and one made him stop in his tracks. He swallowed hard, not wanting to believe what he was hearing. He moved to the door and looked inside. 

DelMar was gone, probably on his way to the studio to wait for the drop off. Three men were in front of his desk. Max Hardt, the video director, stood beside the desk and smiled at Stephen Canlan who straddled a third man perched on the edge of the desk. 

Canlan rocked from side to side undulating sensually over the other man. As he moved Jason saw Elliot smiling up at him. 

"Stevie is one sexy boy." Max Hardt stated. 

"I can see that." Elliot's hands encircled Canlan's waist and he squeezed. Canlan squirmed and gave a breathy laugh, but quickly went back to his slow rub along Elliot's leg. 

"Bobby won't let me make any movies." Canlan told him. "I think he's jealous. He's afraid I'll become more famous than he is." 

"You deserve an opportunity," Elliot said and looked over to Max Hardt. "We should take Stevie down to the studio and make a demo tape." 

Hardt smiled broadly. "You come up with some damn good ideas, Elliot." 

"That's my job. I'm the idea man." He turned back to Canlan. "But Stevie is the man who can make things happen. He's the star." Elliot ran his hands up Canlan's back as he arched into the touch. "You want me to make you a star?" 

"I've never made a movie before. Bobby has never let me. I wouldn't know what to do," he said in voice soft and ringing with false timidity. 

"Then I'll just have to show you how it's done." Elliot lowered his hands and squeezed Canlan's ass. 

Canlan leaned towards him and bent his head. "Show me," he said in a sultry tone, as he grew closer. "Show me how it's done and make me a star." Their lips met and slid into a sensuous kiss. 

Jason Tell pressed his back against the wall and struggled to breathe. God, what an idiot he was to believe Elliot. When was he going to learn that the only person he could trust was himself? He tried to think about what he should do. He pushed down the pain and disappointment that threatened to overwhelm him. He wasn't like them, he kept repeating to himself. He was just trapped in their world, but not part of it. The only way he could save himself was to keep his bargain with Elliot. Just because none of them had any integrity didn't mean he'd lost his. 

He pushed away from the wall and headed for the elevator. He needed to make two copies of the stock information before he dropped it off to DelMar. He'd turn a copy over to Elliot, that way he'd keep his end of the deal. When Elliot's story proved to be a lie and nothing happened besides Elliot growing wealthy, he'd contact the Feds and turn the evidence over to them. One way or another he was going to do the right thing and redeem his soul. 

The elevator closed and Jason squeezed his eyes shut, trying to erase the image of Elliot and Canlan together. When this mess was over he was going to move to Arizona so he could be near Todd and his mother and help them out. He'd find a job, any job as long as it was honest and hard. Something that would keep him from thinking. He'd build a quiet, simple life devoid of people who lie for a living. 

The elevator door opened and he walked into the lobby of the building towards the revolving doors that lead to the street beyond. His steps kept time to an insistent lament. 'Why Elliot? Why?' 

* * *

TITLE: Section Six Part X   
AUTHOR: LEFEY   
FANDOM: Once A Thief   
PAIRING: Vic/Mac/others   
RATING: PG 13 Language   
STATUS: WIP   
ARCHIVE: RatB, Calculated Risks http://denofsin.slashcity.tv/~lefey   
FEEDBACK: Please. [email removed]   
DISCLAIMER: They belong to John Woo and Alliance. Elliot, Jason and Section Six are mine.   
THANKS: Kest and Nicole for the encouragement and best beta ever.   
SUMMARY: Vic and Mac go undercover with operatives from Section Six, the agencies sexual experts.   
---


	11. 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vic and Mac go undercover with operatives from Section Six, the agencies sexual experts.

Go to notes and disclaimers 

  
**Section Six**

Part Eleven   
by LeFey 

  
"It's not that big a deal. You make a few adjustments. Throw the Director a bone." Vic told Mac as he drove. 

"I thought it was _your_ bone she liked?" Mac pushed his sunglasses up and folded his arms across his chest. 

Vic raised a hand to stop him. "I explained that." 

"You'd like to think you did." 

Vic drew in a deep breath. He'd hurt Mac. He kept reminding himself that Mac was just acting this way because he was hurt. If he didn't stop this crap soon, though, Vic was sure he was going to hurt him again, in a very tangible, physical manner. He tightened his grip on the steering wheel and continued. "I told you how it happened with the Director. I was new to the Agency, just out of prison, and I was confused. I didn't know what she was like and... and... she offered, man." He shook his open hand at Mac in a plea for understanding. 

"She offered?" Mac's hands came out in a gesture of incredulous disbelief. "That's your excuse? She offered. Well, since you're standards are so high and exacting, I'll have to remember to keep you away from _everybody_." 

Vic snapped down the blinker with a little too much force as he neared the industrial park that housed Satyr Video. "I'm not like you Mac. I told you before; I don't get offers like you do. Especially, not from women like her." 

Mac snatched off his sunglasses. "I don't think it's called an offer from a 'woman like her.'" He made little quotation marks with his fingers. "It's usually called solicitation." 

"See? This is what she's talking about. You've gotten us completely off the subject." He turned the Agency car into the parking lot. Once they were parked he sat in silence for a long moment and then turned towards Mac. "You know what you have to do in order to make things okay with her. You're just going to have to turn over a new leaf." He said the words very deliberately. 

"Or what? You'll send me off to military school, Dad?" 

"Jesus Christ, Mac!" 

"You can just call me Mac, my son." Mac leaned back into his seat, a smug grin turning up the corners of his mouth. 

"I'm serious, here." Vic stabbed a finger towards Mac. After a moment he frowned and sank back into his seat. "More importantly, the Director is serious." 

"I can work her." 

"Well, you better start because she's not playing around." Vic clicked off his seat belt. "You've got to take this seriously. I don't want to wake up one morning and find that you're gone." 

Mac's face broke into a deeply dimpled grin. "I'm not going anywhere. You made this up, didn't you? The Director never said anything. You're just worried I'll leave." He leaned close and kissed Vic softly on the lips. "That's kind'a sweet." 

Vic leaned away and tapped the back of his head on the window behind him. "God you are hopeless. I wish LiAnn were here to knock some sense into you again." 

"Yeah, what was up with _that_?" 

Vic jerked forward and grabbed the lapels of Mac's jacket. " _That_ was exactly what I'm talking about. You're oblivious to the fact that you have to perform in a certain manner in certain situations. It's not going to kill you to act like the Director is actually in-charge. But trust me buddy," he let go of the coat and patted Mac on the cheek, "it could very well kill you if you don't." 

Mac straightened his jacket. A slight glimmer of understanding was narrowing his dark eyes. "You really think she would send me away?" 

Vic shook his head. "If it got to that point I don't think being sent away is what you'll really need to worry about." 

"But she... ." 

Vic covered Mac's mouth with his hand. "All I know is that she said she's invested a lot in you, and you haven't paid off. You know how the Director is about the bottom line." 

Mac pushed Vic's hand away and then slumped into his seat. "What am I going to do?" 

"You know what you need to do. Stop talking back, stop complaining, do what I tell you to sometimes." 

"Oh yeah? Whose list are you quoting that from, hers or yours?" 

Vic threw up his hands. "This is what pisses her off. Everything is a damn challenge with you!" 

"It doesn't sound like _you_ challenged her when it came to me. Sounds like you were right there ready to add to the list of what's wrong with Mac Ramsey." 

"You're so right Mac." Victor gripped the steering wheel with both hands. "I was right there with the Director every step of the way." 

"It would make it nice for you. You'd be her boy again, and you could pick up with Elliot and... ." 

Vic shoved Mac against the car door and shouted, "I said I'd kill her." His face was close enough to make Mac wince at the sound. "I promised her that if she sent you away, or hurt you I'd kill her for it." Vic released him with a shove, and sat back staring out the window as he tried to catch his breath. "So, don't tell _me_ I'm in on this, or taking her side against you." 

After a long silence Mac said softly, "You'd kill her for me?" There was such a sense of wonder in his tone that Vic turned to look at him. 

Mac's face was alight with marvel, as if he'd been given a special gift. 

Vic couldn't help but laugh. He hooked his hand around Mac's neck and pulled him close. 

"Yeah, I'd kill her for you, but you'd already be dead so it wouldn't do you a whole hell of a lot of good would it? 

"I guess not." Mac kissed him quickly. "But I like the thought." 

Vic laughed, again and pushed him away. "God, you are a piece of work." 

Mac smiled. "I told you, you could call me Mac." 

"Come on." Vic opened the car door. "Let's get this plot of hers hatched, and maybe she'll take it as a new beginning." 

Mac grabbed his arm before he could get out. His face was set in a serious frown. "If it means staying with you, I'll do whatever it takes." 

Vic cupped Mac's cheek with his palm. "Let's go show that bitch she's got nothing on us!" 

* * *

Mac recognized Elliot's car, and pointed it out to Vic. They walked over to where it was parked, a few feet from the door of the video studio. Vic felt a little uneasy about everything that had happened, but Elliot nodded an acknowledgement as they approached. Vic knew he shouldn't have expected any less from the man. He _was_ the professional that Vic only hoped to be. 

"What happened to you?" Max Hardt, who stood next to Elliot, laughed as they neared. He pointed at Mac and the bruises that circled his neck. 

Mac didn't respond, but stopped long before he reached them. He motioned to Elliot. "We need to talk." 

Elliot looked at Hardt for a second, then covered the few yards to where Vic and Mac were standing. 

"What's up?" Elliot asked by way of greeting. 

Mac glanced back at Hardt. "Shouldn't we lose the civilian?" 

Elliot smiled as if he knew a very funny secret. "He's not a civilian." 

Hardt stepped beside them as Elliot turned towards him. "This is Pearson." 

Mac's mouth fell open as the other man smiled at him. Mac jabbed a finger out towards him. "You're an agent? You were beating off while I was doing it." 

Pearson threw up his hands in a defensive gesture. "Whoa! You're doing it, babe, was the reason I was beating off." 

"I don't want to hear this!" Vic cut them both off. Vic's hand balled automatically into a fist and he flexed his fingers, trying to fight the anger that welled up in him. 

"You must be Mansfield?" Pearson said. He looked him over quickly and smiled. "I can see what all the fuss is about." 

His hand clenched again and Vic was ready to show this scum what a _real_ fuss looked like. 

Elliot raised both hands before anyone else could speak. "The job, remember?" The action produced an uncomfortable silence until Elliot spoke again. "Jason is inside. One of DelMar's thugs was going through his car when we arrived. We watched him take out a bag from a copy store and go inside." 

"You think something's gone wrong?" Vic asked. 

"I don't want to think that, but he's been in there an awfully long time. The Director has made arrangements with the RCMP to pick up DelMar. They're not here yet, but I don't want to take a chance and wait any longer." 

"We'll go in now that you're here." Pearson gestured towards Vic and Mac. "We had to baby sit Canlan over there." He pointed at the car. There was a barely visible head in the backseat. "We had a talk with him on the way over. He's ready to give up DelMar, but I don't think he'll stick around on his own." 

Vic pulled a gun from the holster on the back of his belt and checked the clip. "Stay with Canlan," he told Elliot. Then he pulled another clip from the shoulder holster under his jacket, and put it in his pocket. "We'll go in through the back. If you two walk into the middle of something it may make it worse." Vic walked away. 

"But you're backup," Elliot protested. 

Mac patted him on the shoulder and smiled. "That's a good one, man." He turned and jogged to catch up with Vic. 

Vic offered Mac an automatic pistol when he joined him. "You need a gun?" 

"I'm covered." Mac pulled his own guns out of each shoulder holster and checked them in turn. 

"The Plan." Vic began the shorthand communication they used in these situations. "We go in, stay low and scope it out." 

They reached the back door, and Mac checked the handle. It was locked. He pulled a pick from his jacket pocket, and after a couple of seconds eased the door open. 

Vic held his gun against his chest with both hands, the barrel up. They looked at Mac, nodded and they stepped inside the building. They entered into a hallway, dimly lit and lined with three doors. The one nearest them was open. Vic crouched in a defensive position, gun pointed, as he looked inside. The room was a makeshift office with a computer and telephone on a metal desk. Videotapes and file folders littered the floor. It was vacant. Vic raised his gun again and moved passed the door. 

Mac reached out and touched his arm, then motioned down the hallway. At the end of the corridor a bright light shone from under the last door. They nodded their agreement and moved down towards the light. 

The door was slightly ajar and they heard the sound of flesh hitting flesh. The blow was accompanied by a pained grunt. Vic moved the door silently open. He allowed just enough space for the two of them to see inside. 

Jason Tell knelt on the floor, his hands tied behind his back. Robert DelMar paced in front of him as another man watched. 

"Don't you ever learn your lesson?" DelMar lashed out and caught Jason on the side of the jaw nearly knocking him over. "Are you just stupid? Is that the problem?" He continued to rant as Jason straightened. A faint trickle of blood ran from the corner of Jason's mouth to his chin. 

Victor stepped back and pulled Mac close. "Who's the other guy?" he whispered, his mouth next to Mac's ear. 

"Jake. He works for DelMar. Real scumbag," Mac whispered back. 

"Dangerous?" 

"Not that I've seen. Lackey type." 

They moved back to the door. 

DelMar continued to pace around Jason. "We've known each other for a long time. I'm ready to cut you a deal." He grabbed him by the hair and wrenched Jason's head up so he had to look at him. "This is the deal, asshole. You tell me what you were going to do with the copies of my stock information and I'll let you live." DelMar jerked Jason's head again when he didn't answer. "That's more than fair, considering my stock information is worth so much more than your loser life." 

Mac tapped Victor's arm. When he looked over Mac was putting his gun away. He patted himself on the chest then made a walking gesture with his fingers. His hand opened and closed to mimic talking. Then he slid his open palm down the front of his shirt using their sign for _cover me_. 

Vic nodded and drew a second gun from a shoulder holster inside his coat. If anyone could talk his way out of a situation like this it would be Mac. He'd seen him do it before with a lot scarier guys than a fashion designer and his toady. Vic took a step behind the door so he wouldn't be noticed when it was opened. 

Mac moved silently back to the outside door, opened it and let it close with a thud. He walked quickly down the hallway making sure his shoes slapped loudly against the linoleum and announced his arrival. He exchanged thumbs up with Vic as he passed, and then opened the door and stood there for a moment as if he were surprised. 

Vic could see through the space between the opened door and the jamb that Mac was, as he intended, the focus of attention. 

"Hi guys. I know I'm late, but I didn't think you'd start without me." He sauntered into the room leaving the door ajar as before. Vic moved back into position with his guns raised. 

"What are you doing here?" Del Mar asked Mac, then looked back at Jake who shrugged. 

"My agent got a message that I had another video to shoot this afternoon." Mac rubbed his hands together and grinned. "What are we doing, some kind of kinky B&D stuff?" 

Jake laughed and pointed at Mac. "By the look of your neck you've already been doing something." 

Mac ran a hand over his throat and nodded. "I like it rough sometimes." Mac stepped beside Jason and helped him to stand. "You really shouldn't start with him all tied up." Mac took a pocketknife out and opened it. "A lot of guys get off on seeing the dude being tied up." He quickly worked the blade through the waxed cord that held Jason's wrists. 

DelMar snapped his fingers at Jake. "Get him out of here." 

Mac raised his hand in protest. "Come on man, give me a chance. I heard that I was a big hit at your party last night." 

DelMar arched an eyebrow in surprise. 

Mac wrapped his arm around Jason Tell's shoulder. "My main man and me could give you a little live and intense encore." 

Jake was beside DelMar when he was stopped. 

"That's a very interesting idea Mac." DelMar waved Jake back. 

Jason jerked out of Mac's grasp, and took a step away from him. 

DelMar smiled. "Jason seems to see the possibilities. I like the way you think Mac. I'd like to see it rough with Jason. Unless, Jason would like to give me an answer to my question?" 

"Fuck you!" 

Mac reached out and tapped Jason on the arm. "Hey, that's no way to talk to the boss. Or so I've been told." 

Jason moved out of reach. 

Mac turned back to DelMar and grinned. "Thanks for the opportunity. Jason and I will just go into the back and slip into something sexy." 

"No." DelMar drew up a high stool and perched atop it. "You're right Mac. Some guys do get off on the foreplay. I want you to start right here, right now. Strip, both of you, and then you tie up my friend Jason." 

Mac shook his head. "What about the camera, the lights the action?" He mimed a clapboard with his hands. "I'm here to do a video. I've got an agent to support, you know. I can't be doing this stuff for kicks." 

"I'll pay you what your worth." DelMar assured him. Then he smiled as a thought occurred. "There'll be a bonus in it for you if you make him beg. I want it raw." 

"Sure, but... ." 

"Oh, and," Del Mar raised one finger, "I'll give you a modeling contract with our American men's line if you get him to answer my question." 

Mac held out his hands and shrugged. "What question?" 

DelMar gave a wicked laugh. "Jason knows the question. You only have to pry the answer out of him." 

Mac looked at Jason and grinned. "Sort of a game, huh?" 

"Yes, a game." DelMar said. "And it should be a good game since you like to play rough." 

Mac bent and picked up a piece of the severed rope. "Guess I should have untied this," he said as he straightened. "So impulsive. But that makes for hot and nasty sex." He looked at Jason and pointed at the door where Vic lurked. "You want to go back and get us some new rope?" 

"Jason stays where I can see him," DelMar stated. "Jake, get the rope." 

Mac made a minimal gesture with his hand. Hidden from everyone his thumb and index finger joined in an Okay sign for Vic. 

Vic took a step back, and made just enough room to let this Jake walk into the hallway and into a trap. 

"I'm tired of waiting," DelMar told them. "Get naked." 

Jason Tell looked from Mac to DelMar as Jake neared the door. Vic had seen the look before. He'd seen it hundred's of times on the street when a suspect was ready to bolt. He just hoped Mac would recognize it too. Jake neared the door and Vic tensed ready to grab him. 

Jason took a step and to Vic there were all the signs of a runner trying to steal second. He threw the door open ready to pull Jake out of the play as Jason charged at DelMar. He knocked him off the stool and stood a beat as the man sprawled on the floor. 

Jake turned at the sound of DelMar hitting the floor. 

Mac called to Jason. "Don't run, man. I can get you out of this." 

Jason did a hesitant shuffle, but turned to run anyway. DelMar grabbed him by the leg and they struggled as Jason kicked at him trying to break free. 

Jake raised his arm and Vic saw the all too familiar motion. Time slowed and seemed to be marked off at the same sluggish pace as the booming beat of his heart. It was like watching a movie as it ticked away frame by frame. Jake's hand went into his jacket with an inevitability Vic was afraid he wouldn't be able to stop. 

"Gun!" He yelled, and the one short word took an eternity to say. 

Mac turned and looked from Jake to Jason. Vic could see Mac thinking. He could see his eyes track the trajectory Jake's bullet would take, and where it would impact on Jason's chest while DelMar trapped him. 

Vic raised the gun in his right hand, his familiar and best gun hand. Jake's arm straightened and the automatic pistol jerked up into position while Vic raised his own gun. 

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Mac move. He wanted to tell him to stop, or tell him to get down, or just scream 'no' as he lurched towards Jason Tell. Instead, he took a step into the room so he would be certain that his own shot would blow off the shoulder of this bastard who was aiming at Jason Tell. 

The action took a fraction of a second, a half of a heartbeat, the moment between breaths, but it felt like time without end to Vic. 

He fired, but Jake shot first. The sound of the two guns hung in the air like the ghostly vibrations that haunt the peel of a church bell. 

Jake hit the floor, the force of the shot tearing away a large chunk of his shoulder, as Vic knew it would. 

Jason Tell fell backwards, and crashed against three folding chairs that skidded and clattered around him as they broke his fall. 

Mac fell on top of him and did not move. 

The front door to the studio was kicked open. 

"Mac!" Vic yelled and started towards him. 

"Hit the floor!" 

He ignored the repeated, screamed orders, but before he could reach Mac three members of a RCMP swat team knocked him to the ground. He continued to struggle to try and reach Mac until he heard the click a pistol was cocked near his head. 

As his hands were stretched above his head his fingers nearly touched Mac. Despite the shouted orders for him not to move he managed to reach a millimeter more and rest his fingertips against Mac's. He felt the slightest twitch answer his touch. He struggled to keep the contact as a gloved hand pressed the side of his face against the cold floor. 

He heard the familiar sound of the Director's high heels click towards him. 

"No Randy. This one is with me. Elliot, we need our aid unit." 

"Let him go," an authoritative male voice pronounced. Vic was released immediately. 

Vic scrambled the few feet, on his hands and knees, to where Mac lay in Jason Tell's arms. 

"Get away from him!" He gathered Mac into his arms and out of Jason's grasp. Vic held Mac as Jason rose to his feet. Vic gingerly touched a blossom of blood that stained the front of Mac's jacket high on the shoulder. Mac stared at Vic but his eyes were unfocused. 

"You're fine, Mac. You're going to be fine." Vic rocked him slightly as he held him. 

The Director knelt beside him, and offered the long, silk scarf she had been wearing under the collar of her coat. "Our aid unit is only a few minutes away." 

Vic took the scarf and put it inside Mac's jacket, pressing it against the wound to stanch the flow of blood. 

Mac winced at the pressure, and looked up at Vic. It was as if he really saw him for the first time. 

"Jason," he said in a labored voice. "Is Jason okay?" 

"What the hell do I care?" Vic snapped. "How are _you_?" 

The Director reached out and brushed Mac's hair away from his forehead. "Jason is fine, Mac," she told him in a remarkably soothing tone. "You did a very good job. He's just fine." 

Vic looked at her, startled by the unexpected care. 

"Keep him calm, Victor. Keep yourself calm for him." 

He knew she was right. He hated her for being right. He hated himself for feeling this scared. He nodded his agreement. 

"Vic?" Mac moved slightly in his grasp and tried to turn his head and look at his shoulder. The act made him groan. He turned back to Vic, his eyes large with panic. "Vic is this going to leave a scar?" 

Vic laughed at Mac's ability to be vain at the most inappropriate times. The laugh, however, threatened to turn into a sob. "No," he lied, and held Mac a little closer. 

"'Cause I don't have any scars," Mac told him. 

"I know you don't Mac." Vic kissed him on the temple. 

"I don't want any scars." Mac's voice was growing weaker and his eyes less focused. It was clear he was going into shock. 

"I need a minute with you." It was the same male voice that had released Vic from the Swat Team. Vic looked up at a tall blond man in dark slacks, white shirt and a flack vest. He was obviously the RCMP officer in-charge of this raid. 

The Director nodded to him. "I'll be there in a minute, Randy." 

The sound of siren's made her look past Victor towards the door. She reached out and this time brushed his hair back from his forehead. It was a rare occasions that she was this gentle and concerned with him. Each time, like now, he knew she was sincere. "That's our aid unit." She leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek. "I'll meet you at the Agency medical center." She stood up and walked away. 

Mac watched her go and then grabbed at Vic's jacket. "You're not going, too? You're going to stay, aren't you?" 

"I'm going to be right here, Mac." Vic reassured him, but Mac wasn't listening. 

"I didn't go with my mom in the ambulance when they took her to the hospital. I stayed behind to get some of our stuff out before the landlord threw us out." 

"I'm not going to leave you, Mac." 

"When I got to the hospital she said she was scared in the ambulance. She said she'd seen ambulances go by with the lights on and the sirens going, and never thought anything of it. But when she was inside, and the sirens and the lights were for her, she was scared." 

"I'll be with you, Mac." Vic fought hard to get the words out, and hide the tightness that ached in his throat. "I'll always be with you, no matter what." 

Mac looked up at him, his eyes large and glassy. "I don't want to go alone in the ambulance. I don't want to be scared." 

Vic held him tight and pressed a kiss against his soft hair. "You never have to be afraid. I will always be there with you." 

* * *

Elliot saw Jason half way across the parking lot and jogged to catch up with him. In the confusion and drama of getting Mac into the Agency Medic Unit, and seeing that Jake was taken to a city hospital he'd lost track of Jason. He had been in the mix of people around Elliot up until Mac was put into the ambulance. When the mood had settled and the press began to arrive Elliot looked around for him and he was gone. He'd escaped injury, but Elliot was certain today's events had taken its toll. 

Elliot ran up to Jason and fell in step beside him. "Jason where are you going?" 

"I don't know." He kept walking. "What does it matter?" 

Elliot grabbed his arm and made him stop. "I want our medics to check you out." 

"I don't... ." He looked at Elliot and stopped speaking. The look was of some profound hurt that Elliot couldn't fathom. He acted as if he wanted to say more, but turned abruptly and walked away. 

Elliot caught up with him again and spun him around, holding him by the shoulders. "Jason, I put a lot of things in motion for you. You can't just walk on me." 

He jerked away. "What? Are you going to take credit for saving my life? That's a typical agent move. Mac did that, not you. Now, he's on his way to a hospital." He gestured off towards the entrance of the industrial park. "I need to find him, thank him, and do something for him." He started to walk again. 

Elliot ran a few paces and stepped in front of him. Jason tried to dodge around him, but Elliot blocked him and he eventually stopped. 

"What are you going to do, walk to the hospital?" 

"If I have to." Jason tried again to step around him. 

Elliot was able to counter him again. Finally, Jason stopped and turned his back on him. 

"Look, man, you're really more upset than you realize. What happened in there was pretty damn frightening. If you want to see Mac let me drive you to the hospital." 

Jason turned and shoved Elliot in the chest nearly knocking him down. 

"Why don't you go drive Canlan? He's over there sitting in your car waiting for you." His arm jerked out and he stabbed his finger back towards the studio. "Don't let me stop you from showing him how it's done. Go make _him_ a star." 

"You heard?" Elliot swallowed, "How did... You were there?" 

"I came back for my jacket." Jason shoved him again. "I came back just in time to learn what an ass I was to believe you." 

His hand came up again, but Elliot grabbed his wrist and twisted it, not enough to hurt, just enough to stop him. 

"You're not thinking right. I told you at the hotel that this is what I do." 

"What, screw people over?" Jason shook himself free, and took a step back. 

When Elliot was satisfied he wasn't going to leave he said, "I had to get Canlan down here so the RCMP could pick him up as an accessory. The plan was to expose the pornography operation using Canlan as a witness." 

Jason threw up his hands. "God, you can't even keep your lies straight. You told me the plan was to get evidence on insider trading. I was going to be the witness." 

"That was one plan." Elliot shrugged. "I didn't know there was this master plan at work." He ran his hand over his mouth. "I should have known there would be, but I didn't." 

"I did what you asked." Jason's eyes narrowed. "It almost cost me my life. I kept my part of the bargain, now leave me the hell alone!" 

"Let me keep my part." Elliot reached for his arm and he jerked away. "Jason, give me a chance. I don't want you to leave." 

"Bet you don't. Wouldn't want to lose the body count in your harem." He began to pace, staccato steps, in front of Elliot. "How many guys are you stringing along, one dozen maybe two?" His movements grew more frenzied and red flushed across his cheeks. 

"Jason you need to calm down. You're stressing out from what happened to you. I'm afraid you might be going into shock. Let me get you checked out, and then you can do whatever you want." 

He stopped suddenly and stared at Elliot. His large eyes flashed with a dark anger. 

"You don't have to fake concern for me anymore." 

"It's not faked!" Elliot jerked his hands up, but stopped before he touched him again. His hands steepled, palms together between them. 'He doesn't know what he's doing', Elliot kept repeating to himself. Elliot had been in more volatile situations and won trust. Why, though, did this guy always make him feel so desperate and out of control. He could handle this. His life was making people do what he wanted. 

"Jason, you're upset, and probably still afraid." 

"I'm not afraid of you, you fucking pimp." 

The words were like a blow. The hurt that welled up, exploded into anger. 

"That's it!" Elliot took one step and hooked Jason's leg, at the same moment pulling his left arm behind his head and bending him forward. He pulled handcuffs from his pocket with his free hand and snapped one on Jason's right wrist as he flailed to break free. 

"I know you don't think so now, but I'm doing this for your own good." Jason was strong and putting up a good fight, Elliot struggled to get the other handcuff on. 

"Kiss Canlan for his own good, you prick." Jason twisted in Elliot's grasp and broke free. He turned and shoved Elliot backwards. "I saw you kiss him." 

Elliot quickly got his footing after the blow, but backed up as he saw the anger color Jason's face. 

"He was just an assignment. It's what I do." 

Jason was coming for him; stiff legged and fists clenched. 

"I saw you kiss him." he repeated, as if it were the only truth in the world. 

"Jason, you don't want to fight me." He was nearly on him. Elliot planted his feet and waited for impact. 

"I saw you kiss him." 

"You'll see him kiss a lot of people if you work with him." 

Both men jumped at the sound of the Director's voice. 

"Jesus H. Christ!" Elliot drew out the words as his startled heart raced. "God I hate it when you just appear." 

"Actually, I didn't just appear, but you tomcats were too busy hissing at each other to notice." 

"Who are you?" Jason's voice was a strained pant. 

"I'm his boss." She pointed at Elliot. "Yours too if you accept my offer." 

"You mean that?" Elliot asked. 

The Director gave him a curt nod. "Mr. Tell, Elliot has already given you more information about the Agency than he has any right to." 

"It was true?" Jason shook his head in disbelief. 

"Oh, yes." The Director arched one perfect eyebrow. "Section Six takes up far too much of my time. That's because I have no facilitator for that unit. I think you could be of value to us in that position. You are smart, resourceful and up till now I thought you could stand to work with Elliot." She waved her hand dismissing the last thought. "Harmony has never been a necessity for my teams to succeed. 

You will be compensated with a nice, livable apartment, the car of your choice and a comfortable expense account. All I ask in return is your very best work, unwavering loyalty and obedience." 

Elliot took Jason's hand and he didn't resist. "Jason you can start over. DelMar is not a threat to you anymore. This is all I can offer you, a place in the Agency. I think it will be a good place for you." 

The Director reached out and shook the open handcuff dangling from Jason's wrist. "Elliot, take this off. What were you going to do, drag him off and _make_ him work for you? I gave up that recruitment technique with Mac Ramsey, because we all know how that turned out." She glanced at her Cartier watch. "Speaking of my problem child, we need to go the medical center and check on him. I want an estimate of how long he's going to be sitting around watching soap operas, collecting the Agency's money and not working." 

"Your concern is under whelming." Elliot told her as he scrambled to get the handcuff key from his pants pocket. He unhooked the steel bracelet. Jason stepped away immediately holding his wrist with his other hand. 

"Since when is Mac at the top of your priority list, Elliot?" The Director snapped her fingers three times. "Come now Mr. Tell, this is a limited-time offer. Are you on board?" 

The silver Mercedes Elliot had been driving pulled up beside them. Dobrinsky lowered the driver's window. 

"Where's the car?" The Director asked. "Why are you driving this one?" 

"Because it's mine. Hi, Sport." He grinned at Elliot. 

The Director leaned her head back and crossed her arms. "Elliot! Not again?" 

Elliot shrugged. "I was bored." 

"I promise you Sport; you won't be when I get my turn with you." Dobrinsky winked at him. 

"This is just the sort of thing I don't want to have to deal with. A facilitator would prevent these pranks, or he'd wished he had." The Director stepped around the front of the car to the passenger door. She opened it and stood looking over the roof of the car. "Get in the car, Elliot." She nodded towards the back door of the sedan. "Mr. Tell are you interested in a career of correcting Elliot's mistakes? Do I have a new employee?" 

"Where's Canlan?" Jason motioned towards Satyr Video. "He was in this car waiting for Elliot. I saw him." 

"I know, and you saw Elliot kiss him." The Director sighed. "He's going to be taken into custody by the police, but first our agent, Mr. Pearson, is going to feed him to the press and let the future Prime Minister's nephew tell the sad tale of his descent into the skin trade. By the way, Pearson feels a need to apologize to you for his role in all this." She tapped her glossy, manicured nails on the roof of the car. "Suddenly all my agents contract scruples. What's a Director to do?" She snapped her fingers again. "We are leaving. Your choice, Mr. Tell." She disappeared inside the car and shut the door. 

Jason didn't move. Elliot could practically see the energy drain from him. The anger that had charged him had run down to a visible trembling. This was a hell of a time to ask someone to make a life choice, but he knew there would be no second chances. If he didn't go with them Elliot knew he needed to stay and convince Jason that he had to see a doctor. 

"Jason, you said that you wanted me to be around long enough to find out if I liked you, too. I already know that I do." Elliot extended his hand. "Give this a chance. I need to have someone with me I can trust. You do, too. We can learn to trust each other." 

Jason shook his head no. "What about Canlan? Did he learn to trust you?" 

Elliot pointed both hands at him. "Canlan was a _job_." His voice rose to a frustrated climax. "I tried to make you just a job, but you wouldn't let me. There was something in you, some missing part of me that I recognized from the beginning. You had that moment too. I saw it in your eyes. That's the big difference, though, I've only seen it. I never felt it myself, before you." 

Jason looked around. A confused frown creased his forehead. "I don't know what to say." 

"Say yes. Just say yes for now. Give it a couple of months, and if you don't like it, I swear to God, I'll get you out." He offered his hand again. 

Jason looked away, but then turned back to Elliot. His shoulders sank, and for a moment Elliot thought he was going to have to catch him when he passed out. Slowly, he raised his hand, his movements as limp as a rag doll. 

As soon as his intent was clear Elliot grabbed his hand and wrapped a steadying arm around his waist. The man leaned into him. 

"Come on, I'll get you into the Agency ER and then you can stay with me until you get an apartment assigned." 

Jason leaned away and looked at Elliot. His large hazel eyes were dark and sad. "I can't give you the kind of sex you're used to. I don't know if I ever can." 

Elliot touched the side of his face. "Do you really think this is _just_ about sex?" 

After a long hesitation Jason shook his head no. "That's what scares me." 

Elliot smiled. "You think _you're_ scared? What's important now is that we've got each other when it gets too scary." 

Jason managed a weak smile, but then rested his forehead on Elliot's cheek. "I don't think I can stand up much longer." 

Dobrinksy sprang out of the car and opened the door. He helped Elliot get Jason into the back seat. Just before Elliot stepped in Dobrinsky slapped him on the back. 

"I like him, Sport. He has potential. We're going to get along just fine. Especially, after I teach him how to be a good facilitator." 

"What?" That's right. Dobrinsky was the chief facilitator for the Agency. A desperate little voice screamed in Elliot's head. 'There goes paradise.' 

"Get in the car Elliot." The Director snapped her fingers. "I won't tell you again." 

* * *

TITLE: Section Six Part XI   
AUTHOR: LEFEY   
FANDOM: Once A Thief   
PAIRING: Vic/Mac/others   
RATING: PG 13 Language   
STATUS: WIP   
ARCHIVE: RATB/CALCULATED RISKS   
FEEDBACK: Please. [email removed]   
DISCLAIMER: They belong to John Woo and Alliance.   
THANKS: Kest and Nicole for the encouragement and best beta ever.   
SUMMARY: Vic and Mac go undercover with operatives from Section Six, the agencies sexual experts.   
---


	12. 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vic and Mac go undercover with operatives from Section Six, the agencies sexual experts.

Go to notes and disclaimers 

  
**Section Six**

Part Twelve   
by LeFey 

  
Vic held Mac's hand while he slept. The hospital bed had been elevated, and Mac rested at an angle facing Vic. He was still unconscious from the operation to repair his shoulder. Tubes ran in and out of him and machines hummed near the bed keeping track of his vital signs. The Doctor, who brought Vic into the room after the operation, had said all the information was being monitored at the station in the hallway. Someone would attend to Mac in a matter of seconds if anything went wrong. Then she had smiled, and assured him that nothing would happen. Mac was going to be fine. There was therapy ahead and a certain amount of pain when he awoke, but, fortunately, no permanent damage. She had moved a chair from the corner of the room, and placed it by the bed. 

Vic let her coax him to sit, and when she left he took Mac's hand and held it gently. Mac's words pulsed in his head, till it felt his heart kept rhythm to them. 'Don't leave me, Vic.' Mac had said as he was raised into the ambulance. 'Don't leave me alone.' Vic was beginning to understand that those words entailed more than just the ride to the hospital. He brought Mac's limp hand to his lips, and pressed a kiss there. It still scared him how easily he could have lost Mac. Not just to the bullet that had torn through his flesh, but from his own selfish game that he had played with Elliot. Vic squeezed his eyes shut at the thought of how he had pushed Mac into those acts with that hustler, all because he wanted Elliot's attention. He'd set in motion a terrible scenario that Mac had tried to ignore for such a long time. What had he said, eight months? It didn't seem that long. Vic could hardly imagine the pain he'd caused Mac in that span. How he had thoughtlessly made Mac swallow his self-respect as he found each clue to his betrayal. 

Vic admitted to himself, for the first time, that he'd only done it because he was flattered. Elliot gave him the attention he craved, but never thought he'd ever gain. Vic shook his head trying to reassure himself that he couldn't be that needy or shallow. There really was more to it, though. Mac never knew, or would believe that he and Elliot spent most of their time together talking about Mac. Vic would bitch and moan about Mac's behavior, or more often his lack of behavior as Elliot listened, only betraying his impatience with the occasional snide remark. Mostly, though, Vic knew he used Elliot as a sounding board. Many of their conversations dealt with vague generalities as Vic danced around his deep-rooted discomfort at being in love with another man. He looked up at Mac as the thought slapped him. That was the only real truth in this whole mess. Vic pressed the back of Mac's hand against his cheek. "I love you, Mac," he whispered. 

Mac stirred slightly. His eyes twitched beneath closed lids as he swallowed and licked his lips. Slowly he turned his head and groaned. 

"Mac?" Vic squeezed his hand in both of his. "How do you feel, Mac?" 

Mac winced, and still didn't open his eyes. "This is fucked." The words came out in a labored rush. 

"Do you want me to get the doctor?" Vic looked around for the call bell. When he didn't see it he released Mac's hand and started to stand. "I'll get the doctor. She'll get you something for the pain." 

Mac grabbed his sleeve to stop him. "I don't need a doctor." His eyes were open now, and lit with a manic fire. "Don't leave." 

Vic let Mac pull him back down to sit once more. 

"I heard you say it." The words came from Mac like the confirmation of a vow. 

"I meant it. You have plenty of reasons not to believe me, but I really do love you." Vic grasped Mac's hand. 

"I'm the main reason you shouldn't." 

"What? Don't say shit like that." 

"It's because I can't say, you know, it, that you went to Elliot." 

Vic squeezed Mac's hand. "I told you, it's my problem. I'm weak and stupid. I... ." 

"You're not stupid! If Elliot, or the Director told you that I'll fucking kick their ass!" Mac slammed his freehand down onto the bed beside him. The effort cost him. He closed his eyes and groaned as he turned his face away from Vic. 

Vic stood immediately and gingerly touched Mac's head. "I'll get the doctor. I'll get you something to fix this." Mac's hand closed on his wrist before he could move. 

"I'm the only one who can fix this." He turned slowly back to look at Vic, his eyes heavy lidded, but alert. 

Vic sat down, but kept his hand near Mac's head, his fingers gently stroking through Mac's thick hair. "You have nothing to fix. This whole mess is my fault, and I'm sorry. You don't know how sorry I am Mac." He watched Mac's lips nearly forming words as he waited for the opportunity to speak. "We don't have to talk about this now." Vic smiled trying to reassure him. "You just need to rest and get well, and... ." 

"I have to tell you now!" Mac snagged the front of Vic's shirt and balled the denim in his fist. "I have to tell you now, or I never will. You think I'm selfish." 

"No I don't." Vic reached out to calm him. 

"Yes you do. I know the list by heart. You told me to my face." Mac's eyes were wide now, and shining. "I'm self-centered, irresponsible, egotistical, immature... ." 

Vic raised his hand to stop him. "That was before. That was before us." 

"I'm still the same! I still can't say it, but it's not because I don't feel it." 

"I know how you feel about me, about us, Mac. You don't need to talk about this. You need to rest." Vic straightened the blanket that covered Mac, but he was stopped. When he looked up Mac's jaw was set with a desperate determination. 

"I have to tell you. I have to make you understand why I can't say it. It's not because I'm self-centered. It's because I'm afraid." His voice broke on the last word, and one of the tears that glistened along the rim of his eyes escaped. 

"Oh Mac." The words were little more than a whispered moan. Vic brushed Mac's cheek with his hand, and wiped away the tear. "You don't need to do this." 

"I have to." The urgency returned to his voice. "I don't know what they gave me, but I can do this now." 

"Mac... ." 

"Just listen to me for once. You're so like the Director. The two of you always think you know what's best." He pounded a finger into his own chest. "I survived on my own since I was twelve. That didn't happen because I'm a fool. Yeah, I talk too much, and I act like I've got the hots for myself. That doesn't mean I don't understand what's going on, or that I don't see every detail of a situation. There are other ways to end up being the smartest guy in the room, different ways from you, and Elliot, and the Director. That doesn't make me wrong Vic. It just means I'm not you." 

"I've never thought you were a fool, Mac." He reached out, but Mac grabbed his wrist. 

"Just listen to me." He squeezed his eyes shut as a frustrated frown creased his forehead. "Let me tell you while I still can." 

Vic nodded and Mac let loose of his wrist. Vic leaned his arms on the bed rail, and rested his chin on the back of his hands. Mac looked at him, a long, steady serious look that said he was about to do something that he'd never done before. The fear of what might come from it radiated between the two of them like an intruding demon. Vic was locked in his gaze. 

"My Dad told me a story when I was a kid. He wanted to take me with him to pull some scam. I wanted to stay with my Mom. He told me I was acting like a girl, and he wouldn't have it." 

Vic looked away. The pain in Mac's eyes was too much. He reached for Mac's hand and held it between his own. He rested his cheek against the long fingers as Mac continued. 

"He told me the story about the Panda and the goddess. The panda wasn't always this roly-poly joker that we all think is so fucking cute. When the world started the panda was sleek and predatory, like the tiger. He competed with the tiger for food. One day he saw a woman standing in the forest. She was the most beautiful being he had ever seen. But in a blink she was gone. The Panda searched all through the forest. He didn't sleep. He stopped hunting for everything, but the beautiful woman. He would see her in the distance, or look behind him, and she would be standing there only to disappear as soon as he reached her. Then one day, when he was nearly dead from exhaustion, he saw her standing by a pool. When he approached she didn't disappear. Instead, she gave him water to drink, and bamboo to eat. He took what she offered, then rested at her feet. He was overcome by the feelings he had for her. When he looked up at her she was smiling at him. She told him, 'Say it. Say the words.' The panda had no choice because the feelings were too strong." Mac swallowed. "He had to say it. She made him say it. He said, 'I love you.'" Mac's voice tightened, threatening to break on the last word. 

Vic didn't look up. He let his own silent tears flow over Mac's trembling hand. 

Mac cleared his throat. "Then he saw the fangs show, and the stripes spread over the woman's skin. This was the tiger goddess. She only made the panda love her so he wouldn't compete for the tiger's food. From that day on the panda sat at her feet eating bamboo, and growing fat and foolish." Mac sniffed. "That was the only thing my father ever taught me, besides how to take a mark. He told me that love steals everything from you until you're just a fool, like the panda. It all happened to the panda because he told the goddess he loved her." 

Vic pressed a kiss against the back of Mac's hand. "You're not that kid anymore, Mac. No matter how your father tried to manipulate and twist you. You're a good person inside. I know that." 

"No." Mac pulled his hand away. "I lived my life that way. I had to. When I got into the Tang family I had to prove and reprove myself because I wasn't Chinese. I had to be arrogant, and act like I didn't care about anything or anybody because there was always somebody who thought he could take my place with the godfather." He jerked his hand up to cover his eyes as his mouth contorted with a sob. 

Vic reached up and stroked his hair again. "Mac that's over. You're with us now, with LiAnn and me. You don't have to fight those battles anymore." 

Mac slammed his hand down on the bed, anger mingling with the tears. "It'll never be over because I could never say it. A fortuneteller told the Godfather that he would have a second son who wasn't of his flesh, but was from his heart. I was that son." He stabbed a finger at his chest. "But I never told him how I felt. He died in my arms, Vic, and I couldn't tell him I loved him." His hand went over his face, and he sobbed aloud. 

Vic jerked the bed railing down, and pulled Mac into his arms. "You can't blame yourself for some twisted message your father implanted in you." He rested his cheek against the crown of Mac's head as he shuddered against him. 

Mac pushed away suddenly, his eyes bright and troubled. "Then I met you." He shook his head with disbelief. "I fought as hard as I could against you. I didn't run after you like the panda. I ran the other way. It didn't matter. You trapped me all the same." 

"It's not the same at all," Vic's tone rose in protest. 

Mac grabbed his shirt again. "I wish you could understand. I wish you knew the power you have over me. You're the tiger goddess, and I'm just some foolish, fat panda sitting at your feet; grateful for anything you give me." 

Vic pried Mac's fingers away from his shirt, then held them against his lips as he spoke. "You have just as much power over me, Mac. We're both pandas who have been chasing the wrong person. Each of us has finally found someone who won't trick us." 

Mac opened his hand and cupped Vic's cheek. "I won't make you say it anymore." 

Vic smiled, fighting back his own tears. "I always meant it." 

Mac bit his lip, and looked away for a moment. Then his dark eyes fixed on Vic. "I do love you." 

"Step away from the bed, Mr. Mansfield." The doctor's crisp, authoritative tone made Vic jump. 

"Don't go, Vic." Mac swiped at his nose with the back of his hand. 

"Just step back so I can take a look at him." She tapped Vic on the shoulder, and he scooted his chair towards the foot of the bed. She handed Mac a tissue. "It's not the best thing for you to be upset right now, Mac." 

"I'm fine." Mac tried to wave her off. "I want him to stay." 

"He's not leaving, and neither am I," the Doctor told him in a smooth monotone as she inserted the ends of her stethoscope into her ears. 

"What's wrong?" Vic asked her, his hand resting on the blanket covering Mac's leg. 

"His pulse rate jumped on the monitors." She placed the scope's disk on Mac's chest and listened for a moment. She stepped away, removing the stethoscope from her ears. A nurse entered the room. He walked to the far side of the bed, and checked the IV that fed into Mac's arm. 

The doctor looked at Vic. "This isn't unusual. Sometimes people become agitated when they come out of anesthetic." 

"Yeah?" Mac made the one word ring with sarcasm. "And sometimes people become agitated when you interrupt them." 

The Doctor turned back to him and smiled. "Aren't you the pleasant one?" She looked at the nurse. "How much did I say?" 

The young man stopped as he was filling a hypodermic needle. "Ten CCs," he responded. 

"Make it fifteen." 

He filled the needle, and had it in the shunt to the IV as Mac tried to lean forward, waving a hand to stop him. "I don't want any of that crap." 

The doctor placed her hand squarely on his chest and pushed him back down. "Count to ten, Mac, and I guarantee things will seem a whole lot better." 

"I don't want things better. I want them the way they are." His voice slowed as the last words came out. He appeared to relax. The doctor raised her hand away from his chest as he gave a deep sigh, and stared at her. 

"Better?" she asked. 

"Okay," he said slowly as if he hadn't really understood the question. 

The doctor turned to Vic. "He will probably fall asleep soon. That's nothing to worry about." 

Vic glanced at Mac who had settled back on his pillow. He knew the doctor was just doing her job. He also knew that Mac had grown more and more upset as they talked. But like Mac, he knew they hadn't finished and wished they'd been given more time to talk. Reluctantly he nodded and prepared to move closer to Mac as the doctor walked away. 

The nurse intruded and jerked the bed railing up. "Don't take this down again." He said in a matter-of-fact tone. He nearly jumped when he saw the scowl on Vic's face. "He could fall out of bed." The young man tried to explain. 

"Do I look like somebody who is going to let him fall out of bed?" Vic snarled. 

"There are procedures," he countered, half-heartedly. 

"Go inflict your procedures on somebody else." 

The young man flushed as he backed towards the door. "You agents all think you run the world." 

"We run this world." Vic jerked the bed rail down and stared at him. 

"Bunch of psychopaths," the nurse mumbled angrily as he walked out the door. 

"Fucker," Mac slurred out the word as he watched the nurse retreat. 

Vic sat down quickly beside him, and took his hand again. "How you doing?" 

"I didn't want this stuff," Mac protested, blinking at Vic like a stoned owl. 

"I know." 

"I just wanted you to understand that I don't act the way I do on purpose." He narrowed his eyes for a moment. "Well, I do act that way on purpose, but sometimes I don't mean it." He raised his fist and brought it down on the bed. The gesture had little of the force it did only moments ago. "I don't know what I mean anymore." He tossed his head in frustration. "How can I make you understand when I sound so fucked up, even to me?" 

Vic stroked his hair and smiled. "We have a lot of time to tell each other how we feel, and make each other understand." He cupped the side of Mac's face with his hand. "We've got a lot of bamboo to eat together, panda." 

Mac laughed, a silly, drugged giggle. "I love you, Vic. Even when I can't say it, I still love you." 

Vic leaned over and kissed him gently on the lips. He repeated the act until he didn't want to stop. Finally, he leaned back in his chair. Mac produced that mischievous smile that infuriated him so in the beginning, and now tore at his self-control. 

"I love you, Xiongmao." The smile faded and was replaced by a troubled scowl. "I'm not going to remember any of this, am I?" 

"It doesn't matter, Mac. I'll remember it all. I'll remember it forever." 

* * *

Victor reached into his pants pocket to get change for the vending machine. Even before his fingers were completely into the envelope of fabric he remembered he didn't have any coin. He'd gone through his usual drill before a mission. He had emptied his pockets of anything that might make noise, and placed it on the dashboard of the car. The car was probably in the agency garage, and detailed by now. The chance of getting his change back was nonexistent, and Dobrinsky would hold onto his keys just to teach him a lesson. Vic had learned the lesson the first time, and now had several sets of keys squirreled away. 

Vic looked at the coffee machine to see if it had a change dispenser, as he still had his wallet. Of course there wasn't one; exact change only. He leaned his forehead against the smooth, cool face of the machine, and realized for the first time that he was shaking. 

"Is it out of order?" Elliot asked, as he stood in the doorway of the small vending machine room. 

Vic flinched at the unexpected voice. He turned and smiled wanly. "I don't have any change." He held out his empty palms. 

Elliot stepped beside him, and pulled out a hand full of change. "How's Mac doing?" he asked while he plugged coins into the machine. 

"Ah... He's... He's going to be okay. The bullet tore up some muscle, but didn't do any major damage." His voice dropped off. Then he thought of something else. Since he'd left Mac his mind seemed to be working in fits and starts. "He's got a lot of ... ah ... drugs in him. He's pretty out of it. In fact he's asleep right now. Umm... LiAnn is sitting with him so he won't be alone if he wakes up. Actually, she kicked me out. Said I needed a break." 

"Black, right?" Elliot pointed at the vending machine. 

"No, break. What?" 

"Your coffee. You like it black? 

Vic suddenly realized what Elliot had been doing. "You don't have to buy me coffee." 

Elliot looked at him, his dark eyes searching Vic's face. He put a hand on Vic's shoulder. "Are you okay?" 

Vic tried to smile, but it felt like little more than a grimace. "Yeah, sure. Why wouldn't I be?" The words trailed off as he looked away. 

"Hey," Elliot gently gathered him into his arms. 

Vic went willingly, and held the other man as tightly as he was being held. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "I never wanted it to end the way it did." 

"I know." Elliot rubbed a hand up and down his back. 

It was magic the way he could make Vic relax immediately. "I just had to do that for Mac... ." 

"I know," Elliot told him again. "I said things too. You were never a mistake." 

Vic pulled away, but kept a hand on his arm. "I don't regret any time I ever spent with you. I never meant to hurt Mac or betray him, but I don't regret being with you." 

Elliot nodded. "Life's full of complicated, unsatisfying compromise." 

Vic understood the words, but was too tired to even try and grasp the meaning. He shrugged. "Yeah, I guess." 

Elliot laughed. "I meant me too. I don't have any regrets either." He cupped Vic's cheek in his palm, but Vic winced and ducked his head away. 

"Sorry," he said, as he brought his own hand up to cover the bruised side of his face. "I'm still sore." 

"Has anybody checked you out?" Elliot took his arm. "I'll take you down to the ER." 

Vic rolled his arm out of Elliot's grasp. "It'll go away. Besides, I had a hard enough time trying to explain why Mac was strangled and shot." 

"They must not know him." 

A hysterical laugh escaped, and Vic was afraid he was too exhausted to make it stop. He turned quickly, and took a few steps away from Elliot. After a second of struggling to compose himself he turned back. A smile still played on his lips. 

"You're the only guy I've ever been able to talk with about Mac, about what happened to us." 

"You make it sound like an accident, a train wreck." 

Another laugh broke free. "It is, sometimes." Vic scrubbed his fists into his eyes. "Oh." He dragged the word out into an exaggerated plea as he tried to exorcise himself of his fatigue. He lowered his hands, and looked at Elliot. 

"I'm not making much sense right now, but I'm trying to tell you thanks." 

Elliot studied him for a long moment, and then shrugged. "No need to thank me. You are the most... ." He stopped in mid-sentence, and shook his head. "No need to." 

"We can still be friends," Vic said quickly. 

"We always will be. If you ever need anything I'll be there for you." 

"I'm there too, man." Vic clapped him on the shoulder. "You know we can still play racket ball, and shoot some pool together." 

Elliot took Vic's hand from his shoulder, and held it for a moment, then released him. "We can't be casual friends, Vic." 

"Sure we can." Vic smiled. He could imagine that he looked foolish and desperate. He couldn't help it. The realization that Elliot wouldn't be around to be his sounding board was too much to accept. "We had some fun together, like when we went hiking, or the time you took me to that Blue's festival in Banff." 

"Yes, and we had some damn hot sex too. Remember?" 

Vic fought not to blurt out 'I need to talk to you sometimes. When it gets too confusing, and I have no point of reference, I need to listen to someone who knows what it means to love another man.' 

"That's not the point. You... you're... you're my touchstone, Elliot." 

"Call me whenever you want. You know my home number, cell phone and pager." 

"Is that all I get?" 

Elliot held up a hand to stop him. "Vic I'm trying to be honest with you. I can't be with you and not want to touch you, kiss you," his hand fell to his side, "and make you come." 

"Is this because of ... ah...?" Vic slammed his fist against his leg. "I can't remember his name." 

"Jason." 

"Yeah, Jason. Are you abandoning me because you met him?" 

"Abandoning? For Christ's sake, Victor, you're the one who told me that we couldn't see each other any more." 

"That was the sex. I owe that to Mac. It doesn't mean we can't be friends." 

"You're tired, and this conversation is going in circles. We both owe ourselves the chance to find out if we have something special with these guys." 

Vic dipped his head. "You're right." He looked up at Elliot. "All I've ever wanted, besides being a cop, was to have somebody love me. I just never, ever thought it would be another guy. But you," Vic shook his hand at him, "you grew up knowing that was a possibility." He looked away. "I don't know what the hell I'm doing most of the time." 

Elliot took him by the shoulders. "I meant it when I said to call me. You're not alone and I'm not abandoning you. When you need to talk about that... Mac, I'll be there to listen." 

"What about this Jason? He's not going to want me to call you." 

"He's going to know from the beginning that he has to accept my friends." 

Vic wrapped his arms around Elliot's waist and hugged him tight. "Thanks." He moved out of the hug. "And don't tell me I don't need to thank you. I owe you so much for so many things." 

"You can thank me for one more thing. I'm taking you down to the ER, and have them look you over. You could have a concussion. Jason is being kept overnight for observation because he has a concussion from DelMar slapping him around." 

"Yeah? Well, I've got a thick head, you've told me so a million times." 

"I never said you were thick. Stubborn, yes. Very stubborn like now, but never thick." 

"You think this Jason is special?" 

"I think there's a very good possibility." 

"This was like love at first sight?" 

"Who would have thought that could happen to a whore like me, huh?" 

Vic hooked his hand around Elliot's neck. "I didn't mean that. I should have never said it. I was mad because you and Mac wouldn't stop bitching at each other. You deserve to find somebody special. I just hope that ... that..." 

"Jason." 

"Yeah, that Jason deserves you." 

"We'll have to see how things play out. Right now we need to get you to a doctor." 

"I'll take care of Victor." The Director stood imperious in the doorway. 

"I'm taking Vic to the ER." Elliot put his arm around Vic's waist. 

"You're going to sit with Jason." The Director walked into the room, then made an ushering motion towards the door. "They've moved him into a room, and you need to talk to him and keep him awake for awhile." 

Vic moved out of Elliot's grasp. "Go on." He smiled. "Go on and take care of him." 

"You need to... ." 

"I'll get there." 

Elliot nodded, but didn't move. 

The Director cocked her head. "Say goodbye, Elliot." 

"Right." A sad smile barely moved his lips as he turned towards Vic. "I guess that's all there's left to say." 

Vic moved to him, and took his face in his hands. He kissed him long and hard trying to put into this one, last kiss all the gratitude, admiration and attraction he felt for this man. 

Elliot stared at him for a long moment. He drew his finger across Vic's lips. He smiled once more, then turned and walked away. 

Vic watched him go. Part of him wanted to run after Elliot and make him promise, again, that he would always just be a phone call away. Because another part of him knew that if this Jason was the one, he'd never see Elliot again. He turned suddenly and stared at the back wall of the little room, trying to fight the fatigue and fear that threatened to overwhelm him. He gulped in some air to steady himself, and hoped that when he turned around the Director wouldn't be poking at all his sore spots. He knew he had so many, and she had such perfect aim. 

"You here to work me over about Mac, Elliot, Ivy, the mission, what?" He barked out a harsh laugh. "Because I think circumstances have beat you to it." 

"I'm here to pay my debts." 

"What is that supposed to mean?" Vic turned towards the coffee machine, that Elliot had filled with change, and pushed the button for black coffee. 

"You told me that after this assignment was completed I owed you a long, expensive vacation." 

Vic laughed. "Since when do you listen to me?" He picked the cup of hot coffee out of vending machine, and turned towards her. 

"I listen to you far more than you think, Victor." 

"I think you don't listen to me at all, so any increase is not very impressive." 

The Director folded her arms and frowned. "You are in no condition to verbally spare with me. So, just listen." 

"This I understand." Vic raised the paper cup in a toast. "Now, you are being your usual tyrannically charming self." 

The Director rolled her eyes and let a derisive sigh escape. "If I ever showed you my true tyrannically charming self, it would leave you a pillar of salt. Now, shut up and listen." She took a step towards him. "My sources tell me that since Stephan Canlan is already the lead story with every news agency in North America his Uncle, Roger Canlan, will resign by the end of the week." 

Victor stared into his cup. "Great. Score one for the shadow government." 

"And one for you. First, I want a doctor to see you," she gave a disgusted glance towards the door, "because Elliot may be right." She returned her gaze to Vic. "Then when you and Mac are deemed well enough to travel, and his doctor thinks that will be about three days, sooner if he starts to complain as Mac usually does, you will accompany Mac to the Agency airfield. One of our jets will be waiting. You can spend your vacation on an island the agency owns." 

"Where, in the Bering Straits?" He took another swallow of coffee. 

"Victor, please. No one likes you when you're surly. Try the Bahamas. The place masquerades as an exclusive getaway for the rich and famous, but we run it all. Mac needs to recuperate, and I've decided that you need to take care of him while he does." 

Vic's head jerked up. "I can't take care of him! He's going to need medical attention, physical therapy. I'm no nurse." 

"He'll get all the medical attention he needs. The staff here is already vying for who gets to make the house calls. This is a luxury resort, Victor. It's not like I'm stranding you on an island with just Mac and a volleyball. Although, if I did, I don't know how we could tell them apart." 

"Why are you doing this?" 

Her hand came up and her fingers rolled in that familiar dismissive gesture. "Someone has to accompany Mac to make sure there is no attempt at mercy killing while he's being the patient from hell." 

Victor shook his head. "Why are you really doing this?" 

The Director smiled faintly. "Have I ever told you the real reason I do anything?" 

"Let's make this a first. Why?" 

The smile faded from her lips. "You've always been a little tightly wound, Victor. That's usually been an asset. You see to the details, and control most situations. I think it's time now to loosen the spring a bit." 

Vic barked out a surprised laugh. "You think I'm losing it?" 

"I think you don't realize how valuable you are, and I don't tell you often enough." 

"Try never." 

"You told me I owe you a long, expensive vacation. Well here it is. This is a reward. Something I realize that I need to visit upon you more often." 

"So, this means what?" Victor held out his free hand. "Now you're going to tell me how you intend to manipulate me before you do it? Is this your new all carrots no stick style of management." 

The Director stiffened and fixed him with a cold stare. "This is my way of paying my debts. There is always a stick handy. Just appreciate the carrots when I do offer them." 

Vic leaned against the coffee machine, and lowered his head. "Debts, huh? That's what you said when we started this pointless conversation. Good to see nothings changed. We're right back where we started from, and I still don't know what the hell you're trying to do to me." He heard the rustle of her coat, and the clicks as she traveled the short distance between them in her high heels. She held her hand out, offering it to him. 

"Let me take you to the ER." 

He hesitated. Then slipped his hand into the firm, warm grasp of her long fingers. She took the coffee cup with her free hand, and tossed it into the trash. 

"I don't know how you can drink the swill that comes out of those machines." 

He let her lead him towards the door. A profound calm, which he thought could just be exhaustion, settled on him. He knew if he let her, she would look after things for him from this point on. It was an odd feeling to allow someone to take care of him. He was always out there doing, seeing to things, fixing situations, and righting wrongs. What was it he felt right now? Trust? "God, I must be tired," he mumbled. 

"What?" She stopped in the doorway. 

"Nothing." She shrugged and they continued out into the hallway. 

"You know Victor," The Director told him as they walked towards the ER, "by definition if I tell you what I'm going to make you do it's not really manipulation." 

"What is it then, your idea of honesty?" 

She laughed and tucked an arm around his waist. "Oh, you have taken too many blows to the head." 

To be continued 

* * *

TITLE: Section Six Part XII   
AUTHOR: LEFEY   
FANDOM: Once A Thief   
PAIRING: Vic/Mac/others   
RATING: PG 13 Language. M/M Kiss   
STATUS: WIP   
ARCHIVE: RATB/CALCULATED RISKS   
FEEDBACK: Please. [email removed]   
DISCLAIMER: They belong to John Woo and Alliance.   
THANKS: Nicole, Tom and Mockery   
---


	13. 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vic and Mac go undercover with operatives from Section Six, the agencies sexual experts.

Go to notes and disclaimers 

  
**Section Six**

Part Thirteen   
by LeFey 

  
Vic was surprised by how well Mac was doing when they first arrived at the lush tropical island. He was making such a rapid recovery, that Vic had let Mac pester him into going down to the beach for a swim. Mac's doctor, who was staying in the five-star hotel on the other side of the island, had left for the night. She'd given specific instruction that Mac was not to get the wound in his shoulder wet with ocean water. The problem was that she had only given the instruction to Mac. She might as well have told him to plunge in headfirst. 

Mac seemed to lose a step the next day, but Vic only thought it was from the unaccustomed exertion. That night Vic had heard talking in the bedroom, and jerked awake. Mac was tossing and turning on the bed next to him. He had mumbled, then a shout exploded from him. He jerked and tossed his head. Vic had reached for him, but even before his hand touched his restless body, Vic could feel the heat radiate off Mac's skin. 

Vic had moved his things out of the master bedroom the night the infection set in. The Doctor had a hospital bed moved in for Mac, and had turned the room into a mini sick ward. When Mac complained about the new arrangements she had told him, in no uncertain terms, that was the way it was going to be. It took nearly three weeks to completely rid Mac of the infection. The incision had to be reopened and cleaned. Mac wore a drainage tube for a week. 

The contamination put off any physical therapy until well into the second month. Through all of it Vic was by his side. While Mac was weak and sick he comforted him. As he grew stronger Vic was there to encourage him. It was only when Mac was finally on the mend that Vic allowed himself to acknowledge his own needs. 

Vic stood just outside the door of one of the many bedrooms of the ocean front colonial mansion that the staff simply called the Beach House. The room now served as a state of the art physical therapy unit complete with an array of exercise machines, monitoring devises and medical equipment. The area was big enough to comfortably accommodate it all. Vic still marveled at how nearly every room in this palatial residence seemed bigger than his whole apartment. 

Mac strained at the machine that worked his injured shoulder. Vic dug his fingernails into the palm of his hand. 'What the hell's wrong with you,' he shouted in his mind. Vic knew Mac still wasn't one hundred percent. It was apparent by the effort that it cost him as he exercised. That knowledge didn't stop Vic's body from reacting to the sight of Mac sweating and panting as he fought against the pull of the weights. 

'God I need a drink,' Vic thought as he wiped his moist palm across his mouth. He'd stopped drinking alcohol almost as soon as they arrived. He knew he had to have maximum control over his body since it seemed to be in a permanent state of arousal. He had actually been grateful for the distance the Doctor imposed between them. Injured, sick, and weakened this was still Mac Ramsey. This was the same man who only had to flash that mischievous, dimpled smile to make Vic's cock jump. 

Maybe a swim would take away the maddening desire. It would be his second of the day, and probably not the last. He had already run three miles as soon as the sun was up. Marathon jogs on the beach had become his routine. His exercise regime was now manic and obsessive, but still no cure for the sight of Mac in a sweat stained t-shirt and gym shorts. 

Vic squeezed his eyes shut. 'God, you're just a perverted sex addict!' he rebuked himself. Maybe another shower would give him some relief. His dates with the shower massage had become increasingly frequent, as well. He was just waiting for the head housekeeper to ask why he used so many towels. Although, he feared that some of the staff already had a pretty good idea of what was going on. He felt like he was walking around with a big sign that read: "I can't get no satisfaction." Proof was provided by all the unwanted, instant hard-ons. Take one limp dick and just add Mac. Vic hadn't experienced so many 'emergencies' since he was a hormone-tormented teenager. 

Well, he had to do something, he decided. He couldn't lurk outside the door and spy on Mac forever. Besides, the cool darkness of the hallway was no antidote for the heat that was building in his body, again. 

"Vic!" Too late, Mac had spotted him. 

Vic took a step forward, but didn't cross the threshold. He lingered in the relative safety of the hallway where he could make a speedy escape if something... ah... came up. 

"Swim," he said quickly as he pointed behind him, in the general direction of the beach. "I'm going for a swim," he added so it wouldn't be taken as an invitation. 

Carolyn, Mac's therapist, waved her hand to stop Vic. "Keep going, slacker," she teasingly admonished Mac when it looked like he was going to quit. 

She frequently joked with Mac that she hoped he never recovered, because this was the best assignment she'd ever had with the agency. Carolyn was an energetic, wiry woman. LiAnn, during her sole two-day visit to the island, had informed Vic, in a dismissive tone, that Carolyn was a granola type. Vic still wasn't exactly sure what that meant, but he knew he liked anyone who could motivate Mac to do his therapy. 

Mac's groaning and grimacing suddenly increased. Vic wasn't sure if he was in real pain, or just being a pain to shorten his therapy session. 

"Come on, ten more. You've got ten more in you." Carolyn motioned Vic into the room as she counted out the last reps. 

He entered reluctantly, and pointed once again in the general direction of the ocean. "I'm just going for a swim." 

"You see?" Carolyn said as she handed Mac a towel when he was finished. "Vic doesn't have to be made to exercise." 

"I have to get going... ah... the tide. You know." Vic started to back towards the door, wanting to, but not able to look away from the sight of Mac toweling off. 

"Take him with you." She pointed at Mac. "A swim would do him good, stretch out his muscles." 

"But he's not supposed to go into the ocean," Vic protested. "That's how he got that bad infection." 

She waved a hand rejecting his opposition. "There's no chance of that now. The wound is completely healed." 

Mac was wiping the sweat from his face as he neared Vic. "He's just afraid I'll show him up," he told Carolyn as his eyes locked on Vic. He radiated a wicked mischief. "I'm a seal in the water, and he's just a flounder." Mac reached out and quickly tweaked one of Vic's nipples through the soft cotton of his shirt. 

Vic jerked around, turning his back on Carolyn. He hoped the act had been quick enough to hide the immediate hard-on that tented his shorts. He jumped when the towel hit his butt. 

"Go on," Carolyn ordered. 

Vic craned his neck to look at Carolyn. He couldn't go with Mac, but he had to think of something to tell her other than the obvious excuse in his pants. Maybe he could escape if he explained that he had to change out of the trunks he was wearing, still had to put on a jock, or get some sunscreen. 

Carolyn smiled at him as she gathered up the towel preparing for another strike if he didn't move along. "You guys haven't had any fun together since you got here," she told him. 

Vic hesitated. She aimed the towel. There was no choice except to follow Mac to the beach. 

Far from being a seal, all Mac wanted to do in the water was horse around. He had pushed past Vic, nearly knocking him down to be the first into the clear blue water. 

"I win!" Mac danced proudly in circles, his arms raised like a triumphant prizefighter. 

"This isn't a contest," Vic mumbled, as a grumpy frown creased his brow. He waded out until the crystalline water lapped at his waist. He had to start swimming soon. The sun-warmed water was like a silky hand on his body, arousing an annoying pleasure. 

Vic jerked as the splash of water drenched the side of his face. It was accompanied by a cackle of amusement from Mac. "What are you, five?" he barked, as he wiped saltwater from his eye. 

The smile fell momentarily from Mac's lips, but sprang back with an infuriating smirk. "What are you, fifty?" 

Another splash drenched him, and Vic turned away as Mac beat a noisy shower of water his way. 

"Come on, Gramps," Mac taunted. "You've got the whole day to sit on the beach and rub Ben-Gay into your rheumatism. Play with me!" 

The water prickled over Vic's skin. Anger shot through him, and only served to heighten the heat in his groin. It was like having an itch tickled. If Mac kept up this asshole behavior Vic feared he'd lose control, drag him out of the water, throw him on the sand, and show him what that smart-ass mouth of his was meant to do. 

Vic was able to fight the desire to turn around. When he didn't respond to the second round of splashing Mac eventually quit. Vic waited until he was certain that the game was done, and then looked over at Mac. He was moving his long fingers just under the surface of the water, watching as they made ripples and eddies around his hands. Oh this was just great! Mac was in one of his hyper moods. The same guy who turned vegging-out in front of the TV into an Olympic event could become all nervous and twitchy when boredom struck. This didn't happen often, but when it did they had the most incredible, intense sex together. Vic looked away with a jerk of his head. 'You did it again!' he shouted in his mind. 'He's barely well, and all you can think about is sex, sex, and more sex!' 

"I'm swimming. Okay?" He said angrily. 

"I can swim," Mac said with a shrug. He dove into the clear water and turned on him before Vic could move. 

Mac's hands groped up Vic's legs, the ticklish sensation making him jump. The weight of the water slowed Vic's movements, and kept him from blocking Mac. He clumsily thrust his hands under the water towards Mac, in a lame attempt to stop him. The tug was sudden and unexpected. Vic knew it was too late to save himself. His trunks were skinned down to his knees. Mac pulled again, and Vic was able to gulp in a breath just before he was toppled backward into the warm, clear water. He struggled to right himself. Mac was on top of him in a moment, pushing him down to the bottom. Vic flailed, sending up a cloud of glittering sand around them as he tried to push Mac away. 

Suddenly, Mac twisted from him, and broke the surface of the water. Vic started to turn, but before he could gain a foothold to stand he felt it. Mac's hand wrapped around his exposed, half-hard cock. The tunneled hand jerked up and down his shaft in three quick strokes. As pleasure mixed with rage, it was all he could do not to lose himself in the sensation. He batted at the hand when it tightened, and tried to pull him up. He managed to break free, and stood. Vic gasped in some air as he wiped his eyes. Then he shoved out a hand to stop Mac, as he heard the other man move through the water towards him. 

"My Grandpa," Mac teased. "What a really big tool you have." 

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Vic bellowed as he jerked up his black swim trunks. 

"That's not what you're supposed to say." Mac sported the most exasperating grin. "You say: 'All the better to fuck you with, my dear.'" 

Vic jabbed a finger towards him. "You could have drowned both of us." 

Mac gave an incredulous laugh. "We're in four feet of water, tops. You keep lying about being over six feet tall. So, all you have to do is stand up." 

"Ah... Ah... ." Vic struggled to think of something to say instead of just grabbing Mac by the back of the head and forcing that perfect mouth over his aching cock. "Statistically most drowning occurs in less than three feet of water." 

"You don't know that." Mac's smile was fading, and anger narrowed his eyes. 

"What you did was dangerous." Vic threw back. 

"What?" Mac was glaring now. "What was so dangerous, throwing you in the water or jerking you?" He waded closer to Vic. 

Vic staggered back a step. "You don't know anything about water safety." 

Mac's brow creased with a look of total disbelief. Suddenly, he laughed, nearly doubling himself. "Jeez, Vic! That stick up your butt just gets bigger every day." He stopped laughing and fixed Victor with a heated stare. "But then it wasn't that stick that got in the way of my pulling your trunks down. Was it Vic?" 

"I... . I don't come out here to splash around and screw off." 'Screw! Could you be any more obvious?' Vic screamed to himself. Mac would go after that like a shark. "I'm going swimming." Vic didn't wait to play another round of 'Who's horny and pathetic?' He plunged into the water and pulled himself away from Mac with powerful long strokes. 

In a few moments Mac had nearly caught up to him and Vic slowed his pace. They swam together for a time; Vic constantly worried that he might exhaust Mac. He did seem tired, or at least too quiet, when they returned to the Beach House, and approached the outdoor shower. 

Mac stepped past Vic, and onto the colorful tiled platform that served as the open shower's floor. He turned on the tap, and stood with his head down as the warm water cleaned away the salt from the ocean. He didn't bother to remove the thin sleeveless t-shirt he had been wearing. The garment became nearly transparent as the shower soaked it. The muted outline of the scar on his shoulder stood out in dark relief. 

It hit Vic that he hadn't seen Mac without a t-shirt or shirt since they came to the island. This was unusual, to say the least, for a guy who reveled in seeing and showing off his body. Great! When Mac was finally well there would be a new hurdle. He'd have to be convinced that the scar meant nothing between them. Vic would have to go slow with him. He spanned one hand across his forehead. God, that meant, what, another two months without sex? He jerked his hand away. 'Stop thinking about yourself. He's the one whose been hurt.' Vic squeezed his eyes shut for a moment. 'But I'm the one who is going to need an treatment if this goes on much longer.' 

Mac stepped out of the stream of water and brushed his wet hair back with both hands. The hair glistened with a dark luster as he pushed it into place. The sleek waves that crowned his head gave his strong features a classical beauty. 

Vic realized, too late, that he was staring at Mac as he stepped off the shower platform. 

"Let me get you a towel," Vic offered as he neared. 

"Cristo has some waiting on the patio," Mac replied flatly. Then his head jerked up, and he gave Vic an angry glance. "I'd offer to wash your back, but that might violate some shower safety regulation I don't know anything about." 

"Mac," Vic called after him as he walked towards the house, but he didn't turn around. 

Vic hurried through his own shower, and then went back to the mansion. As he approached the large slate covered patio that lead to the living room, he saw Mac's wet clothes draped over the wrought iron railing that enclosed the space. Cristo, the house manager, had left dry clothes for them as well as a pile of towels. Vic pulled off his swim trunks and hung them next to Mac's. Without a word or a thought from either of them, they would find these clothes clean and folded in their respective dresser drawers. Vic dried himself off, scrubbing the thick towel over his hair. He tossed it aside, and then picked up the pale blue cotton shirt that had been set out for him. He pulled on the loose khaki shorts and tied the drawstring tight. Cristo had a knack for giving him clothes he liked and that made him feel comfortable. He drew in a deep breath. As much as he wanted Mac to be well, as much as he wanted things to be status quo, he was going to truly miss this master-of-the-house life. 

Mac was sprawled out on one of the plush cushioned rattan couches when Vic entered the room. Mac didn't acknowledge him, but stared towards the large windows and the luxuriant garden beyond. It wasn't like him to pull this silence crap. Vic knew that was his own way of coping with things. Mac always pushed for an argument. Words were his weapon, his protection and his sanctuary. He must still feel sick to be this quiet. 

"You want me to get you some ice cream?" Vic asked, pointing towards the other end of the house where the kitchen was situated. 

Mac turned his gaze away from the window and fixed him with an incredulous glare. 

"Not that you couldn't get ice cream for yourself if you wanted," Vic added hastily. 

Mac gave a short harsh laugh. "You think you can stand to eat with me?" 

Vic wasn't sure what to say. There was a challenge, yet a desperate sadness in Mac's tone. "If you want ice cream I can eat you, with...eat with you. Because right now I want... ice cream." Mac looked away for a moment. Did he miss it? Why wasn't he pouncing on the pathetic Freudian slip? Even after the first stumble Vic's mouth had tried to betray him again. His brain had thought the word a second time, and almost forced his voice to say, 'Because right now I want you.' He was on the verge of saying it, and although he hadn't, he was certain Mac's reaction was disappointment at knowing that Vic wanted to put him at risk to satisfy his own lust. 

Mac shrugged, and looked back towards the garden. "I guess ice cream is the most I can hope for." 

"So, you want ice cream?" Vic asked softly, still afraid Mac knew how selfish he wanted to be. 

"Sure. Thrill me," Mac said, a petulant note ringing in his voice. 

Vic turned and was nearly through the door on his way to the kitchen. 

"Mango." 

Vic stopped in the doorway and looked back at Mac. "What?" 

"Mango," Mac repeated the word, enunciating with a frustrated clarity. "I want mango ice cream. I don't want that rutted road goop you eat." 

"It's rocky road, rocky not rutted." Vic spanned the fingers of one hand across his forehead. Great, now Mac was going to slip into his sick and fussy two-year-old personae. 

"Whatever." Mac shielded his eyes with one arm, sinking even further into the pliant couch cushions. "It's just sick and wrong to try and eat frozen marshmallow." He sat up suddenly and fixed Vic with an angry stare. "What is marshmallow anyway? You won't eat anything that's a delicacy in my culture, things that you couldn't even have dreamed of affording on your pathetic, past-life cop salary. No, but you'll pack away whatever that white snot is, and expect me to join in." 

"Maybe you'd be happier if I didn't eat with you at all?" Vic snapped. 

Mac gave a sad laugh. "Good job, Vic. You're just the best at twisting things around until it's my fault." His arm went up to cover his eyes once more. 

"Fault?" Vic ran his hand over his mouth. 'He's not fully recovered, yet. You tired him out,' he reminded himself. This whole thing could escalate into a real fight with very little effort. He wouldn't do that to Mac. "I'm getting ice cream," he pronounced as he left the room before Mac could counter. 

Chef wasn't in the kitchen, which was good because she didn't like the guests helping themselves. The down side was that the lowly staff person present, who was doing the prep work for that evening's dinner, had to hunt for Mac's mango ice cream. Vic's rocky road was in the kitchen freezer. He was told chef kept it handy because he ate so much of it. The mango was finally found in a mixed case along with pints of leachy and green tea ice cream tucked away in the back of a storage freezer. Mac rarely ate sweets, and when he did they were strange, like the rest of his diet. 

When Vic returned to the living room, a dish of glistening, dark ice cream in one hand and the pale, barely sweet mango concoction in the other, he found Mac asleep on the couch. Vic sat carefully in an upholstered chair on the other side of the room, holding a bowl in each hand. He watched Mac sleep, his breathing heavy and even. After a minute or so of willing Mac to wake up, but not having the heart to actually interrupt his nap, Vic rested the bowl of mango in his lap. The chill from the fine porcelain served as a thin barrier between his resolve and his arousal while he watched the small movement of Mac's full, sensuous lips as he breathed slowly in sleep. Vic finally lifted his spoon and gulped in a mouthful of the silky sweetness from his own bowl. It didn't act as the substitute he'd hoped it would, and it was gone far too soon. 

Vic stayed as long as he could before the sight of Mac drove him to distraction. Quietly, he stood and placed the bowl of pale ice cream on the coffee table next to Mac. The muted thud on the rattan table didn't wake him, didn't even make him stir. The swim had been too much for him. Vic silently cursed himself for letting it go on so long. He left his own empty bowl on an end table where one of the staff would take it to the kitchen for him. The spoon rang against the porcelain bowl as it settled on the table. Vic looked over his shoulder; on the off chance the noise had disturbed Mac. He still slept soundly. Vic watched him for another moment, let out the breath he held, and went upstairs to his room. 

He had to pee. At least that's what he was telling himself. It wasn't morning, and it hadn't been all that long since he'd been to the bathroom, but this was just a pee-hard. That's all he'd admit to as it rubbed against the sturdy cotton of his shorts while he climbed the steps to his room. Pee-hard, nothing more. He wasn't turned on. He had more self-control then that, more self-respect, and more concern for Mac. This was just an annoying pee-hard that would be eliminated with a trip to the john. 

Vic went into his room and headed directly for the bathroom. He stood looking in the long mirror above the double sink as he untied the drawstring on his shorts. The man who looked back was surprisingly fit despite his recent addiction to ice cream. His skin had a healthy olive tone. He wasn't deeply tanned, but now was rid of his winter pallor. He needed a haircut, he thought absently, as he pulled his stiff member from the khaki shorts. Mac did too. His hair was longer than Vic ever remembered seeing it. Dark and thick it had a life of it's; own dipping in waves and springing up in errant flips and curls. The unintentional look was reckless and sexy. Vic gave a quick tug on his cock and shivered from the jolt of pleasure. God he wanted to touch that hair. Run his fingers through it, tousle it just enough to annoy Mac, or grab him by it and force his mouth down on... Vic pulled his hand away. This wasn't a pee-hard, and surprisingly rough sex wasn't what he wanted right now. 

He wanted a slow, teasing, secret encounter. The thought of Mac, asleep on the couch, vulnerable and waiting to be caressed consumed him. Vic drew in a deep breath and sank to the floor; his back pressed against the white cabinets of the bathrooms long vanity. He scooted out of his shorts and snagged a clean white towel off the counter above. 'You're acting like a sixteen year old,' he chided himself. 

His hand wrapped around the warm, hard length of his cock. He sighed at the sensation. "It's good to be sixteen, again," he whispered. 

He thought about Mac asleep on the yielding cushions, the warm breeze from the open doors playing over his body. Vic wanted to touch that vulnerable, sexy body using a gentle, stealthy caress. Not sufficient to wake him, but expertly enough to make him twitch and grow hard. He wanted to brush his lips, like a ghost kiss, feather light across Mac's incredible mouth. If he had his way he would run one finger up the underside of Mac's shaft, not taking him out of the light jersey shorts he wore, but letting the material amplifying the sensation until soft, slow, little strokes made him come. He still wouldn't wake, not until night had made the room dark. His eyes would open and display that little boy confusion that made Vic want to crush him in his arms. Then he would wonder what had happened. He would reach down and touch the damp evidence, and marvel at how a wet dream could feel so incredibly real. 

Vic tightened his hand and stroked harder. Then he loosened his grip and teased at his shaft, not letting himself come yet. The image of Mac helplessly aroused in his sleep morphed into the first time they had gotten each other off. Vic held struggling and helpless against Mac's heated body, a bet, a game gone in a direction he never imagined. 

'What do you think about when you jerk-off?' Mac had asked as his fingers danced along Vic's cock. Vic had been trapped by the pleasure, and unable to do anything but think about the images that got him off. Mac seemed to know instinctively how to prompt reactions that tormented him. Vic had wanted to come so badly his body ached with the need for release; his throat choked back the screams that would come when he finally gave in. Yet he couldn't admit to this. He couldn't let Mac win this tantalizing test of wills. Mac had used such skill to bring him to that point, and had kept him balanced on the sharp, thin, exquisite blade of pleasure between submission and defiance. This is what he'd always thought about, trying not to come as skilled hands tormented him beyond his endurance. 

'What do you think about when you jerk-off?' 

'You. Only you now, Mac,' Vic thought as yet again he changed the pace of his strokes while he rocked and ground his butt into the plush throw rug on the bathroom floor. He thought about Mac varying rhythms and pressure with his mouth or hand. He saw his eyes light with a feral mischief when he drew a moan or curse as he left Vic teetering on the brink, pausing to admire the frustration he had created. 

'I think about you.' He thought about Mac sleeping downstairs. He imagined his own hands stirring Mac's cock to life. How long could he keep that relaxed, vulnerable body aroused, yet asleep? The thought made him increase his stroking. Vic's fingers glided over the most sensitive spot of his shaft. He teased at it with butterfly light touches that made him jerk from the sharp shocks of pleasure. More to the point was how long could Vic last as he witnessed the formation of dark spots as pre-cum stained the jersey of Mac's gray shorts. 

'What do you think about when you jerk-off? I think about you.' Images, remembered and invented swam through Vic's mind charging his arousal. He thought of what he wanted to do to a sleeping Mac. He relived the tortuous teasing that Mac was so good at inflicting. The erotic pictures came in staccato bursts like electrically charged snap-shots. Vic barely brushed his swollen cock trying to prolong the pleasure that overloaded his senses. The sensations built until he couldn't hold back, couldn't help but thrust into his own hand. His grip tightened and the explosion of pure, pent-up lust rocked through him. He grunted out a series of moans as he bounced and jerked from the white-hot sensation that charged his nerves and muscles. 

Vic was on his side on the floor when it was over. After a minute to catch his breath, he panted as he reached for the towel resting beside him. He slowly cleaned himself, stopping at times to take a deep breath or just listen to his own blood sing across his eardrums. He pulled at his softened cock, stretching it out in order to wipe away the last traces of what he'd done to himself. Weariness settled over him instead of the calm he had hoped for. He felt empty, except for the constant guilt that haunted him. 

He threw the towel aside, and it smacked with surprising force against the large claw-foot bathtub. 

"You're pathetic," he said aloud, and buried his face in his hands. 

* * *

TITLE: Section Six Part XIII   
AUTHOR: LEFEY   
FANDOM: Once A Thief   
PAIRING: Vic/Mac/others   
RATING: NC-17 Masturbation, Language.   
STATUS: WIP   
ARCHIVE: RATB/CALCULATED RISKS   
FEEDBACK:Please. [email removed]   
DISCLAIMER: They belong to John Woo and Alliance.   
---


	14. 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vic and Mac go undercover with operatives from Section Six, the agencies sexual experts.

  
**Section Six**

Part Fourteen   
by LeFey 

  
Vic stood in the open doorway that lead out to his room's small balcony. The view wasn't as spectacular as he'd had those first few days while he shared the master bedroom, down the hall, with Mac. The vista from this room had the odd vine covered tree in the way, but he could still see the ocean. If he leaned against the jamb of the open French doors, and he didn't really feel like doing much else, the tree's actually made a very nice frame for the glassy water. 

The ocean was gemstone blue, glinting and brilliant, beyond the squat white colonnades of the balcony's railing. The late afternoon heat shimmered off the water, and promised another glorious sunset in a few hours. 

A soft breeze moved the gauzy curtains on either side of the French doors, and kissed Vic's skin. The air was sweet with the perfume of exotic flowers, and accented with the faint piquant of salt air. It was during tranquil moments like this, after he had exhausted himself by jerking-off, that Vic wished he could stay in this paradise forever. 

He took a sip from his glass of ice water and fresh limejuice, and listened to the soft music that filled the room. He hoped it would ease his troubles, as music had done throughout his life. It seemed to be working. He felt calm at last, or at least distracted. He was grateful for any distraction that could take his mind away from Mac, if even for a moment. 

The Director certainly hadn't stranded him on a barren island, as he'd feared. This was the long, expensive vacation he had demanded, complete with all luxuries. The beach house was equipped with a state of the art sound system. The first package he'd received from the Director, only two days after their arrival, was a varied collection of favorite delta blues CDs. These were accompanied by a much smaller collection of the noise Mac liked to call music. Vic nodded minimally along with the hypnotic rhythms of Blind Boy Fuller. The twang of the singer's voice matched the cry of his slide guitar while he sang _Homesick and Lonesome_. 

Vic fished an ice cube out of his glass and rubbed it over his neck and throat, letting the cold, melting water run down his bare chest. The odd drops marked brown specks on his khaki shorts. 

"Is that how you feel?" 

Vic jerked at the unexpected sound of Mac's voice, the ice rattling in his glass. He turned to see Mac standing just outside the door. He wore the same light jersey t-shirt and shorts that had charged Vic's jerk-off fantasy earlier. Vic allowed himself a quick inspection of Mac's body, but looked away long before he was satisfied. 

"I asked if that's how you feel." Mac took a step into the room. "Homesick and Lonesome?" 

Vic jerked his head towards Mac. "How do you know the name of this song?" 

"Repetition, Victor, Victor, Victor." Mac moved towards him, the challenge in his eyes matching the one in his voice. "You see, I've heard this piece of Mississippi mud every time you mope and start nursing a drink. Which means I've heard it a lot." He took the glass from Vic's hand, and pulled out the lime wedge. He put the fruit slice in his mouth and bit down, momentarily flashing Vic a grimace with green rind replacing white teeth. Mac removed the segment and licked his lips. "Good stuff, nearly sweet. You remember our first experience with limes?" 

Vic remembered little else lately. The giddy tipsiness of tequila shooters and lime had numbed his inhibitions, and allowed him do things with Mac that he had wanted for so long. Now, the slightest thought of their initial encounter was enough to arouse him. Vic turned away before Mac could see the heat spread across his cheeks. They stood in silence for a long, uncomfortable moment, Vic looking out at the calm water that stretched off to the horizon, wishing he could find some tranquility there. 

Finally, Mac spoke. "I remember what it was like before this whole Section Six mess started. That morning in bed before we went in for the briefing, and I was instantly out numbered by your three lovers." 

"Ex-lovers!" Vic spun around. 

"Yeah, aren't we all?" Mac looked down for a moment, but then met Vic's gaze with a renewed intensity. "Some are more ex than others, though." 

"I don't know what you're talking about." Vic rolled his shoulders as a flash of anger tightened his neck. 

"I heard you on the phone with Elliot," Mac challenged. 

"He called for _you._ " Vic gave Mac an incredulous stare. "He called so Jason could talk to you." 

"The call came in for _you_. I heard you on the phone with him." Mac dropped his voice to a husky, secretive whisper. "I'm doing good. How are you? This place is fantastic. I wish you could see it." 

Vic fought the bloom of embarrassment that prickled over his body at the mocking imitation. "It was just small talk. Excuse me for being civil to the guy." Mac's expression of impatient disbelief just fueled the anger that stiffened Vic's spine. "It's not my fault that Elliot felt he had to check with me to see if it was safe for Jason to thank you for saving his life." He stabbed a finger at Mac. "That's why they called. That's why I put you on the phone with Jason. You seemed to get off on all that gratitude at the time." 

Mac nodded. "I didn't have anything to hide. I talked to Jason right in front of you, but you never mentioned Elliot." 

"Gee, Mac," Vic said with a sharp, false smile, "I really didn't know it meant so much to you to get _caught-up_ on what's happening with Elliot." 

"When's he coming?" 

Vic shrugged. "Who?" 

"Elliot!" Mac cracked off the name. "I figured that was your reward for enduring all this. Is the Director paying you off to stay here by promising a little nude beach time with him?" 

Vic leaned against the doorjamb, and let out an exhausted sigh. This was the last straw. Mac was still jealous, and there was no way to show him how wrong he was until he was completely well. "Mac you are so far off on this, but no matter what I say you won't believe me." 

"I believed you that morning, before everything started. You told me that you were addicted to me." He snorted out a disgusted laugh. "But then, I guess you've taken the cure. Congratulations." He held the glass up in a salute, and took a long drink. His face creased into a puzzled frown when he finished. "This is just water. What? You take the pledge along with swearing off me?" 

"Give me the glass." Vic reached for it, but Mac swept it behind his back. 

"Fine." Vic pursed his lips, and pushed away from the doorjamb. 

"So, you're going to leave whether I give you the glass or not? Figures. After all, you are the guy who has elevated walking away from a problem into an art form." 

Vic stopped, but didn't turn around. 

"I caught your last exhibit," Mac continued. "The last, the first, all the countless portraits of the back of your head as you walked away are burned into my brain. Ah, yes, through the years there have been the greats; Michelangelo, Rembrandt, Picasso and now Mansfield." Mac stepped in front of Vic and flashed an angry grin. "All those guys I just named were great artists, by the way. I thought I'd tell you just in case you hadn't heard of them while you were playing cops and robbers, and aspiring to own a pick-up truck." 

"Stop it!" Vic bellowed. His hands balled into fists, and he fought to keep them at his side. "Just stop it." His voice dropped to a normal tone, but was brittle with frustrated anger. "What do you want, Mac, an argument? Better yet a fight? You probably won't be happy until one of us gets knocked on his ass." 

"No chance of that happening. You won't touch me. You think I'm _beng._ " Mac ended the sentence with a ringing Cantonese word. 

"Does that make you feel important?" Vic's eyes narrowed. "Does that make you cooler, smarter, a better man than me because you can talk some... some gibberish that I don't understand?" 

"You think _I_ don't understand, but I do." 

Mac's last sentence hung in the air for a moment. It would have made just as much sense if it had been said in Chinese as well. Vic shook his head. "I don't know what you're talking about." Then he thought of what could be an answer, and reached to touch Mac's forehead. "Do you have a fever again?" 

Mac batted his hand away. "Will it gross you out if I do? I just want you to say it." 

"Say it? What?" Vic raised his hand as if to stop Mac. His sudden defensiveness had Vic on the verge of striking back. "I'm not going to play these stupid games with you." 

"Sure you'll play. You're trapped here with nothing else to do. Just admit it." Mac quickly reached into the glass and wet his fingers. Then he flicked the droplets at Vic. 

Vic winced at the unexpected wetness. 

"I thought you liked water, Vic. Aren't you the fucking water safety master? You spend most of your time swimming, or in the shower." Mac shot another spray of water beads at Vic. "Or is that just a place to scrub off after being around me?" 

Vic grabbed at the glass, but Mac stepped out of reach. "What the fuck is wrong with you?" Vic swiped at his face, wiping the dampness away with his hand. _'Remember, he's sick, he's still weak and he's going to be dead if he doesn't stop,'_ Vic yelled in his mind. "Did you stop taking your medication?" 

"I told you I just want you to say it." Mac reached his long fingers into the glass once more. 

Vic lunged at him. "Give me that goddamn thing!" He slapped it from Mac's hand. The glass shattered on the polished hard wood floor. Vic glanced over at the shards of glass glinting in a puddle of water and ice. His head was jerked sideways as Mac grabbed his chin and forced Vic to look at him. 

"Say it! Have the fucking balls to say it to my face!" 

Vic pulled out of his grasp, and staggered back a step. Mac followed him until they stood toe to toe. 

"Tell me instead of just running away! Tell me I disgust you." 

"Disgust?" Vic searched Mac's face for some explanation to all this. The usual confrontational arrogance that fired their arguments was gone. Mac looked scared, afraid that he might hear the words he expected. Then his world would be shattered like the glass that was trashed on the floor beside them. 

Vic closed his eyes and sighed. He tried to steel himself for the fight that was about to come if Mac didn't back down. "I've been through all this _with_ you, Mac. I've been by your side, damnit!" His own frustration escalated in his voice. "How can you say this to me? I know you're selfish Mac, but what do I have to do to fill your bottomless need for attention; sleep at the foot of your bed like a dog? Well, I have, at the medical center, and here when you first got the infection. But forgive me for sitting in a chair all night with my head propped on my arms resting on your bed. I know now, that you expected me to be curled up on a rug by the door." 

"Don't put this back on me, Vic," Mac yelled. "It's not my fault that the way you feel about me doesn't quite fit with your self-image as the perfect hero." 

Vic waved his hand dismissively, and took a step towards the door. "I'm not going to do this. You don't know what you're talking about." 

"I know that whenever I come into a room you walk out." 

Vic stopped. How was he supposed to answer that? It was true, but the real reason was too embarrassing to admit. Why did Mac have to be such an expert at pushing his buttons? In only a few moments Mac had him on the run. He'd lost control just as he'd feared. Instead of lust causing problems it was his temper, funny how they had the same results. 

Vic tried to lose the heat that made him want to fight or flee. He had to try to think rationally for Mac's sake. Getting this upset couldn't be doing Mac any good. He might calm down if he were told the truth. Vic couldn't see how Mac would become any more distressed when he learned how selfish the man who supposedly loved him could be. 

"If it's the Director who's keeping you here I'll talk to her," Mac continued. "I'll figure out something so that you can leave. Just give me some respect, and admit that what you've seen is the problem. Admit that I'm the reason you want out." 

Vic turned. Mac's dark eyes were glistening. Vic's words caught in his throat. He glanced away. 

"See," Mac pointed a shaky finger at him. "You can't even look at me." 

"You're wrong." Vic tried to fix his gaze on Mac. The pain in his eyes was unbearable. He'd caused that pain because he'd tried to protect him the only way he knew how, by avoiding the situation. Sister Rose of Lima's voice echoed from the past. For just a moment he was a kid again in corduroy pants, uniform sweater and crisp white shirt. He sat with his head cradled in his arms on his grade school desk. The whole class listened this way as their teacher walked slowly around the room reciting potential sins as they prepared to go to confession. "Avoid the near occasion of sin." She'd ended each session with those words. Vic hadn't been good at it then, and Mac made it just short of impossible now. 

"You don't know what this is about," Vic said softly as he fought to keep contact with the tragedy in Mac's eyes. 

"I know you've been there with me, Vic. There was nothing I could do about that." Mac wiped away a silent tear that escaped down his cheek. "I also know that means you've seen everything, the sweat, the blood and the puss. I never wanted you to see me like that." 

"Is this about...?" 

"Things that happened with me were too gross." 

"Mac, you're the one who's squeamish about things like that. Not me." God what a mess. He'd let a misunderstanding turn into the elephant in the room. It was too big for either of them to ignore any longer. He'd never dreamed that Mac would see his self-sacrifice as repulsion. Mac used to take shots at him before they were together. _'How can you be so thick?'_ LiAnn would always come to his defense. _'He's focused.'_ He'd been _very_ focused the last few months. A slight smile moved Vic's lips. 

"You think this is funny?" Mac planted one foot, and nearly assumed a fighting stance. 

"No. But what's that word the Cleaners use?" Vic snapped his fingers trying to come up with it. "Ah.... Ironic." 

Mac blinked, but remained on the defensive. "Have you lost your fucking mind? Now, you're quoting the Cleaners? You're the one who needs medication." 

Vic dipped his head as the smile broadened. "It's just that things are, like, three-sixty from what you think." He looked up, and Mac relaxed his stance. 

"This better be good," Mac warned his voice tinged with caution. "And don't try to scam me because you're a lousy liar." 

The smile left Vic, and he fought hard not to reply that Mac would certainly know a good liar when he heard one, since he was a master at it himself. Vic took a deep breath and tried to shake off the sudden flash of anger. So, this was the life he'd made for himself with Mac Ramsey; uncontrolled lust interspersed with random acts of bickering. 

"Come on, explain," Mac goaded. "I want to hear what's so damn funny about you avoiding me." 

"I'm not avoiding you." The words came with more anger than Vic had intended. Mac shifted his weight, and was ready to respond when Vic raised his hand. "Just shut-up and let me finish." 

Mac reluctantly fell silent. He folded his arms across his chest, and stared at the floor. As Vic paused, searching for the right words, Mac mumbled under his breath, "I don't know what you call it, but you've been avoiding me." 

Vic let out an exasperated sigh. "Okay, I _am_ avoiding you, but it's not for the reason you think." Vic reached out to gingerly touch Mac's wounded shoulder. The heat radiating from his body was intoxicating. He paused much longer than he'd intended, relishing this tiny scrap of intimacy. 

Mac jerked away from him. "Fuck! You can barely stand to touch me. I won't put you through the ordeal of trying to explain." 

"Mac you don't understand!" 

"Oh I do. I get it. I saw the look on your face, the hesitation before you touched me, and how you couldn't speak after you did." It was Mac's turn to head for the door. 

Vic intercepted him and blocked his way. "You have to listen to me." He took hold of one arm, then the other. His hands moved swiftly up and grasped Mac's shoulders. Not hesitating this time, Vic forced him back against the wall next to the door. He only wanted to prevent Mac from leaving, to end the words, and to make Mac hear his confession. His hands continued until they cradled Mac's face, and his fingertips touched the soft unruly hair. Mac's lips moved, a protest forming, but it never escaped as Vic's mouth covered his. 

The taste of him was incredible. A poignant sweetness filled Vic's senses. A tiny voice nagged that he should stop, explain and make things right. Touching Mac, the kisses that he was now receiving as well as giving were the only _right_ thing in his world. At that moment the entire universe, his very essence of being narrowed to their lips, their tongues and the warm breath they exchanged as they explored each other. 

Mac's hands scrambled over Vic's back. He tensed, expecting at any moment that Mac would push him away. Instead, the hands clutched at his sides, and pulled him closer. Vic pressed, willingly, against Mac. 

There was always such perfection in kissing Mac. His lips were full, soft and warm. His tongue was agile and intuitive as he discovered sensitive, thrilling places. It was easy to get lost in the sensuality of that mouth. One more kiss. That was what Vic kept telling himself as they played out a sexy game of tag with each other. Just one more kiss. 

Then the voice interrupted, again. The admonishment _do-the-right-thing-Vic_ was no longer a mummer in the background, but a full-blown, yelling nag in his head. _'He's not well yet you selfish son-of-a-bitch!_

Vic stepped back, but only a little, as Mac wouldn't let go. His hands still framed Mac's face. "I just wanted to protect you," Vic whispered, his lips going back to Mac's for another brief kiss. 

"Protect me from what?" Mac tried to capture his mouth again as Vic leaned away. 

"I want you so much." Vic gave in, and let Mac pull him back for one more kiss. 

"Why are you staying away?" Mac asked when they broke. 

Vic rested his forehead against Mac's. "I can't control myself around you." He laughed softly. "You see, _this_ happens if I don't stay away. I need to stay away from you until you're well." 

Mac pushed him back a little, holding him at arms-length. "You mean you want me so much you have to leave me?" One eyebrow shot up in a skeptical grimace. 

"I'm not leaving you." Vic tried to defend his actions. "I'm just leaving you alone." He hesitated as the words started to sink in. "Yeah, I guess. No. Well, sort of. Yeah." 

"Good job, Vic." Mac patted him on the shoulder. "You've turned our lives into a fucking soap opera, a _bad,_ fucking soap opera." 

Vic tried to move away, but Mac's fingers dug into his back and drew him in. "When I'm around you I just want to... I don't know... just jump you," Vic confessed. He glanced at Mac hoping he would read the apology in his eyes. "I tried to stay away. I didn't want to take any chances until you were well." 

Mac's lips twitched then broke into a sly smile. He leaned close. "I am well," he whispered next to Vic's ear. 

Vic gave him a judgmental scowl. "You may think you're well...." 

Mac put a finger to his lips and shushed him. "The walls have ears," he cautioned. 

"Not here?" Vic shook his head. "The Director wouldn't bug...." 

"Reality check, buddy. It's what she does." Mac took Vic's arm and steered him closer to the surround sound speakers. Then he snagged the remote, and upped the volume slightly. "I'm telling you I'm okay, now." 

"You can say whatever you want, but I saw the trouble you were having with your therapy." 

Mac cocked his head to one side. His lips stretched into a smile that Vic knew only too well. 

"Mac?" 

"Carolyn really likes it here. I do too." The smile spread into a self-satisfied smirk. "She increases the weights on the machine without recording it, and, the funny thing is, I don't seem to be making any progress." 

Mac bent forward to kiss him, but Vic leaned away. "How long?" 

"We figure we've got another three weeks before things get obvious." 

Vic pushed out of Mac's embrace. "I meant how long have you been well?" 

Mac raised his hands, and shushed him again. The puckish grin returned. "Awhile now." 

"You fucking asshole," Vic seethed through clinched teeth. 

"What did you say?" Mac gaped at him. 

"You put me through hell you self-centered, thoughtless asshole." Anger spiked in Vic, and he wanted justice. He knew there was only one thing guaranteed to set Mac off. Mac would never explain why this triggered such a rage in him, but at times like this Vic didn't care. He just used that knowledge to bring Mac down to the same visceral level of anger he inhabited. Vic's arm shot out pushing Mac back a step. 

Mac's puzzled look vanished, replaced by his own anger. "Don't push me, Vic!" He shoved Vic back. 

"You couldn't tell me?" Vic pushed again. "You're so clever with your fucking brilliant schemes." He punctuated the words with another shot, and Mac retaliated. 

"You _don't_ fucking push me!" Mac bellowed. 

"Is it a joke to you that you didn't tell me? Am I just another mark to you?" Vic raised his hands, but Mac was ready, and blocked him. "Why didn't you tell me?" he raged. 

"When would I tell you?" Mac delivered a solid blow to the shoulder that forced Vic back a step. "You wouldn't even stay in the same fucking room with me!" 

The exchange of blows had pushed them across the room until Vic bumped into one of the bed posts. 

"I try to trust you, and you pull this... this shit on me!" Vic raised his arm to strike again, but Mac moved swiftly and bent his arm behind his back. 

"This isn't my fault," Mac yelled, as Vic twisted, trying to break free. 

"You played me!" Vic pushed against Mac. 

"You ignored me!" Mac pushed back, and they toppled onto the bed with a thud. 

Vic struggled after the unexpected landing. As he thrashed he seemed to move into Mac's grasp, instead of away. Mac's fingers entrap his other wrist. In a moment his hands were forced behind his back. Vic fought to get some leverage, but he found himself draped over the foot of the high, four-poster bed, and barely able to move. Mac on top of him, coupled with his own weight on his captured arms had him pinned. 

Mac was scant inches away from his face when he shouted again. "This is not my fucking fault!" 

Vic thrashed under him. "It's not my fault either. I tried to protect you." 

"I thought I disgusted you." Mac shifted his weight, and restricted Vic's movement even more. 

Vic gave up with an exhausted sigh, and turned his face to the wall. "You don't know how hard it's been to stay away from you," he confessed. His words were met with a prolonged silence. Vic looked back and met Mac's eyes. 

"You don't know how much I wanted you to touch me," Mac said in a sad, quiet voice, "or just look at me. I wanted to see you smile instead of act like you'd discovered something dead behind the refrigerator." 

"That's not the way I acted at all. It tore me up to see you so sick." Vic tried to rise up, make his protest more pronounced, but all he could manage to do was elevate his head an inch. "It took so long to get rid of the infection; I was worried if we did anything... you know... physical, it would be too much for you. I had to stay away because everything you do lately just.... well.... it just turns me on." He closed his eyes, afraid to see the mocking look that was sure to pop into Mac's eyes. He waited for it, the taunt; _caught you, caught you hard and horny, now I have the power,_ but there were no words. Vic opened his eyes again. 

Mac wet his lips as if he were about to speak, but looked away. When he met Vic's gaze again there was a cool determination in his eyes. 

"Why are we fighting?" Mac asked, his tone calm and steady. 

Anger still jangled through Vic. "Because you... you... you pissed me off." 

"This must be the ironic part. You're pissed off because I want to, and am able to give you just exactly what you need?" 

"And you threw water in my face," Vic added quickly, trying to ignore the embarrassingly, obvious logic of Mac's words. 

"Flicked," Mac countered. "Droplets. You make it sound like I doused you with a bucket." 

"And you pushed me." 

"You pushed me first!" Mac's voice rose in protest. "And you knew damn well that would start a fight." 

Vic dropped his head back down on the bed. This squabbling, that they were both prodigies at, could go on forever. His reverie was short lived. Mac gave him a sharp shake. 

"So, we both want the same thing, but we're just going to go on fighting?" 

Vic looked up at Mac and suddenly he seemed different. This wasn't the conniving, immature jerk, with the attention span of a gnat, who had plagued him when they were first partnered. This was a determined man who was going to get what he wanted, and apparently he wanted him. 

Vic felt near collapse as the fight adrenalin drained away. He tried to smile, to give Mac the sign that he had been waiting for, but the effort seemed too great. "I remember that morning together, too," he said after a moment. His voice sounded thin and exhausted to him. "That time in bed before Section Six turned us inside out. You asked me when you became the responsible one." Vic gave a weary laugh. "I don't know, but obviously you have." 

"I don't want to fight any more." 

"Me either," Vic agreed. 

"Why do we do this to each other?" Mac whispered. 

Vic squeezed his eyes shut for a moment. "I don't know. Maybe because we're so different?" 

Mac turned up one corner of his lips in acknowledgement. "Or maybe, because we're so much alike?" 

Vic smiled faintly. "You think we'll ever figure it out?" 

Mac smiled back. "Not in this lifetime." 

Vic nodded his agreement. "In the next life I'm going to find you right away, not waste any time." 

Mac laughed, a soft genuine laugh that made Vic smile. "More time to fight?" 

"And make up. Speaking of which let me up." All Vic wanted now was to hold Mac, and be held in return. 

"Can't you get up?" Mac asked, but made no move to release him. 

"Ah, does it look like I can get up?" 

"No. Actually it looks like I'm finally stronger than you are." A wide, superior smile spread across Mac's face. 

"That's total bull." Vic squirmed under him trying to rise. "It's the angle." 

"Good excuse." 

"You've got your feet on the floor. My feet aren't planted. I can't get any leverage." Mac's grip tightened, and Vic felt the little movement he had being stifled. He fought a moment longer then looked up at Mac. "You _are_ stronger." His voice rang with disbelief. 

"I told you. I've been working out. Just because I'm not making any progress with my therapy," Mac winked," doesn't mean I'm not getting a lot stronger." 

"Okay, so you're the man. Now, I want to get up." 

Mac ground against him sending a shock of pleasure charging through Vic. 

"Feels like you're already up, or well on the way." 

"Mac don't do that." Vic tossed his head from side to side trying to rid himself of the insistent desire that plagued his body. 

"Don't do what? This?" Mac rubbed slowly against him, causing heat to build from the friction, and hardening his cock. "Or this?" He leaned forward, and brushed feather soft, maddening kisses across Vic's lips. 

Vic turned his face away and moaned. "You don't know how damn horny I am. You do any of that and I'll come." 

"That's kind'a the idea." 

"Mac stop." Vic tried again to break free, but gained little ground. "I'm not... going to... come in my pants." The words erupted in raspy clumps as Mac kept up the steady maddening rub. 

"Like, this would be the first time Cristo found come stained clothes in your laundry hamper." Mac leaned forward until his mouth nearly touched Vic's stomach. 

Vic tensed as the warm breath kissed his skin, fired his nerves, and sent shocks jolting through his cock. His body betrayed him with a shiver, as an edgy wave of pleasure rumbled through him from core to fingertips. The reaction wasn't lost on Mac. He smiled as his tongue darted out, then traced a lazy trail up Vic's chest, over his neck and ended with a nip to his chin. 

Mac hovered over him, a sly grin making him look too sexy and dangerous. 

"I can't get off this way," Vic told him, hoping for a tone of authority that would buy his release. It didn't work. 

"That's not true. I know your secret," Mac whispered, the knowing smile still hanging like a Cheshire cat above Vic. "This fucking melts your cock. You'd never _allow_ anyone to do it to you, but when it happens you're hard as a rock." 

Vic squeezed his eyes shut. He hated feeling this vulnerable, knowing that the best he could do was to take it. The thought made him press against Mac. The man _did_ know his secret. Vic never gave physical control of himself to another, and he'd fight if there was ever a threat that control could be taken from him. Yet when it did happen, and all choice had been taken away, his whole being was sensitized by the surrender. 

"Vic Mansfield, crypto-bottom," Mac told him. 

An involuntary moan escaped at the idea, and Vic tossed his head again. The tantalizing scrub against his receptive cock sparked up a notch. 

"You're going to pay for this." The threat came from a breathy voice that broke on the last word. 

"No doubt, but it's gonna to be worth it." 

Mac chuckled, and then bent down to lightly rub his stubbled chin over Vic's nipples. He moved slowly enough that Vic knew what was going to happen. The anticipation and the knowledge that it would drive him crazy were nearly as intense as the actual touch. Nearly. Nothing compared to that teasing scrape. He jerked, tensed and tried to break free again, as the tickling scratch played on his responsive flesh. 

"This really gets to you," Mac said with a lilting taunt to his tone, but didn't stop. 

Vic responded to each word with a moaning grunt as the warm breath danced with the prickly movement of Mac's chin over his afflicted skin. "I'll take that as a yes." 

The maddening touch began to shift, and Vic stifled another moan. He knew Mac, and he knew what was going to happen. He was going to visit that scraping torture all over his chest. 

It was worse than he could have ever imagined. Mac played his body like a finely tuned instrument, drawing cries from him as he scraped his cheek in short devastating patches along his side. Mac could only bend so far and still keep him pinned to the bed. Vic was grateful he couldn't reach his navel, but shuddered at the thought of what he could do to him if his reach was only a few inches lower. 

The merciless play seemed to go on for an eternity. When Vic could force his eyes open he saw his skin covered in ruddy patches that told of the places where Mac had concentrated his efforts on hypersensitive spots. Every look cost him dearly, but Vic fell prey, too often, to a panicked curiosity that forced him to see what Mac was doing to him as a stroke grew more unbearable. Each stolen glance was a horrible mistake. The brief glimpses of Mac at work on him made the sensation even more intense. 

That wasn't the worst part. As Mac teased at him he seemed to forget the reason he held him down in the first place. He'd stopped rubbing against him. Vic felt his neglected cock swell and throb with each scratchy brush of Mac's beard on his bare chest. He bucked, trying to make contact himself, but found little relief. Finally, Mac granted him some mercy and leaned back to look at him. 

"I think we should get this one out of the way, so we can play later." His voice was breathy with need. "You want it slow?" He pressed into Vic, and slid along his shaft with a glacial pace that made Vic shiver. "Or do you want it fast?" He performed a staccato rub that left Vic panting when he stopped. 

"I just want it," was all Vic could manage. 

"Mmmm," Mac hummed out his pleasure. "Dealer's choice then." 

He began a passionate grind that was clearly more to satisfy his own built up need than to please Vic. While Vic would never call him generous in bed, Mac was always skilled at getting the most gratification out of an encounter before the moment was stolen away by the climax. 

Vic drew in his breath as he worked the fractional amount of movement Mac allowed him. The heat grew between them while Mac moved his steel hard erection up, down and around Vic's. The teasing scrape of the weave in his pants over his engorged organ threatened to burn the sensitive skin, but only for a moment. Mac seemed to know how much was too much. Each time pain threatened he changed the stroke, and a new flood of sensation threatened to overwhelm Vic. 

When his body felt like it glowed with a fiery arousal Vic played his own games. A panicked voice in his head screamed _'I can't move!'_ The thought of being helpless to resist the pleasure Mac was creating jolted through his body, and charged his nerves. Another voice admonished him, _'Don't give it up.'_ The idea of holding back the orgasm, that he knew he couldn't resist, strengthened an unrelenting desire that already threatened to tear him apart. He fought the ever growing need for release. _'I can't move!'_ and _'Don't give it up.'_ became one and the same thing. _'How much can you take?'_ The fight, the struggle, the power of being helpless, but not giving in was the secret key to his arousal. He wished they could both be in this state at the same time. Mac bound, but teasing him while he lay equally restrained, but tormenting Mac. Both of them locked in an erotic competition that no one could win, but only, through sheer force of will, hope to outlast. 

"Ahhhh!" The sound was ripped from Vic as lightening-like pleasure exploded in him. Blinding and all consuming, it went novae, held him for a moment in startling, white-hot delight, and then began to dim, all too soon. 

He became aware of Mac panting out his own orgasm. His head minimally thumping against Vic's chest as a ragged moan escaped. A slight smile moved Vic's lips as he let his head sink into the loft of the bed's duvet. It was a comforting triumph, to Vic, that Mac could never last for more than a few second's if he climaxed first. _'You made me come, but I pulled you over the edge after me.'_ That was the best. That's the way he liked it. 

After a moment Mac raised his head. His face was flushed, and his eyes dark and dreamy. He leaned forward, and pressed a passionate, nearly sloppy kiss onto Vic's mouth. "You are one fucking, sexy bitch, Mansfield," Mac pronounced in a low, raspy tone. 

"Don't call me that?" Vic smiled at him. He had to protest, but from the debilitated quality of Mac's voice he couldn't take the name, bitch, as anything but a term of praise. "And you're pretty damn hot yourself." 

"Yeah, I kind'a got that impression when you came." 

Vic waited for the insufferably smug smile Mac usually displayed when he was teasing. Instead, what came out was a look of genuine contentment that he had made Vic come so hard. 

"I'm sorry. I never meant to hurt you," Vic said suddenly. 

Mac shook his head. "That's over." He released Vic, and stood, taking a step away. He wrung his hands for a moment. "Shit! My hands have gone to sleep," he complained. 

Vic pulled his hands out from behind his back. "Your hands went to sleep? Mine are dead." He was half way into a sitting position when Mac pushed him back down. 

Mac's fingers fumbled with the drawstring on Vic's shorts. "Damn! I can't get my fingers to work." 

Vic slapped his hands away. "What are you doing?" 

"Get these off, and I'll clean you up." Mac pulled down the gray jersey shorts that he wore, and began to use them to wipe at his sticky cock. 

Vic quickly shed his khaki shorts, and waited for Mac. As he leaned forward Vic put a hand on Mac's shoulder. "Let me see a clean part of those shorts before you start." 

Mac frowned. "I don't think there is a clean spot, since I come quarts." He ended with an arrogant smile. 

"Right," Vic pronounced skeptically. "We all know you're such a stud. Now, show me the shorts." 

In a moment Mac turned the shorts in his hands until one of the legs was displayed clean, dry and as workable as any hand towel. 

"Okay." Vic lay back, his hands behind his head. 

"You're a clean freak, Vic," Mac grumbled as he gently wiped Vic. 

"Cleanliness is next to Godliness," he replied absently as Mac ministered to him. 

"Well, your cleanliness is next to a mental condition." He finished with a last dab at Vic's hip, and tossed the shorts aside. "That's why I thought what happened to me would bother you." 

The remark was made lightly, even off-hand, but Vic heard the need for reassurance deep beneath the words. He sat up and grabbed Mac by the wrist. "I don't like messes. I can't operate without a certain degree of order. But that has nothing to do with you being hurt, or sick, or how that first antibiotic made you run at both ends." 

Mac winced. "Jeeze, don't remind me." He tried to turn away, but Vic held him fast. 

"None of that matters, because I'll do whatever it takes to make you well. I did whatever it took; and like you said that's over now." 

"I just don't know how you could..." Mac started. 

"You'll know how, and you'll do it if something happens to me. It's just the way things work." Vic glanced down, and let go of Mac's wrist. Then he looked up. "I'm just sorry I didn't tell you the real reason I was staying away." He looked aside again, but forced himself to fix his gaze on Mac. "I was embarrassed that I couldn't control myself." 

"You have control issues, too," Mac confirmed quickly. 

"And you always pick the most perfect moment to point things out," Vic snapped. 

"But that's over now." Mac threw up his hands in a gesture of surrender. 

It wasn't an apology, but as close as Vic could expect from the other man. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He was too sated to get embroiled in another fight with Mac. He nodded. "Let's keep everything over until at least tomorrow. I don't have the strength left to argue with you anymore." 

"If you didn't get pissed at me all the time we wouldn't argue," Mac groused. 

"Mac!" Vic warned. 

His hands went up again. "Over. All over. I get it. All over." His voice trailed off. "All over." He said the words softly, and a faint smile moved his lips. "All over." The smile was growing until a deeply dimpled grin lit his features. "That's what we need to do, be all over each other." He clapped his hands with delight. "I've got some things I really want to show you." 

"Mac, no. I'm wasted." 

"Yeah, now. But the afternoon is still young, and the evening hasn't been born yet, and the night is just a glimmer in the moon's eye, and early morning is still in a previous reincarnation, and I'm going to go get the stuff." 

"Mac wait. Can't we just relax for a minute" 

Mac turned in the doorway. "That's a good idea. You climb up on the bed and relax. I'll be right back." He turned and disappeared down the hallway. 

Vic covered his face with his hands. Manic Mac, that's all he needed right now. He stood up slowly and stretched, hoping to work the stiffness from muscles held in one position for too long. He took Mac's advice and settled on the bed, enjoying the afternoon breeze that played lightly over his still heated skin. 

The slide of wood against wood came from down the hall, as Mac opened and closed drawers in his room. Vic jerked when something crashed to the floor. He settled back quickly as the noise was accompanied by the familiar sounds of Mac swearing in Cantonese. After a moment the cursing stopped. Somewhere, further down the hallway a door creaked open. 

"Found it!" 

That was the last thing Vic heard before he fell asleep. 

To be continued... 

* * *

TITLE: Section Six Part XIV   
AUTHOR: LEFEY   
FANDOM: Once A Thief   
PAIRING: Vic/Mac/others   
RATING: NC-17 M/M sex, Language.   
STATUS: WIP   
ARCHIVE: RATB/CALCULATED RISKS   
FEEDBACK:Please. [email removed]   
DISCLAIMER: They belong to John Woo and Alliance.   
---


	15. Finale

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vic and Mac go undercover with operatives from Section Six, the agencies sexual experts.

  
**Section Six**

Finale   
by LeFey 

  
Vic drifted slowly awake. The room was silent; Blind Boy Fuller's blues CD having long since ended. A slight breeze from the open balcony doors moved the gauzy curtains, cooling the bedroom from the late afternoon heat. The tang of lime scented the air. Vic suddenly remembered the glass he had slapped from Mac's hand during their argument. It had shattered on the hardwood floor. Water, citric acid and wood were a bad mix. He must have been wasted not to mop it up before he fell asleep. He turned quickly to leave the bed, and slammed against Mac. Vic jerked, startled by Mac's unexpected presence. An embarrassing anger flashed through him at being taken by surprise.

"What's the rush?" Mac pushed him back down. He was propped on one elbow looking at Vic's naked body. Mac was nude too, except for the simple gray T-shirt he'd been wearing earlier.

"That mess on the floor..."

Mac shook his head as if it didn't matter.

"I don't think explaining that the floor was ruined because you were horny..." Vic started.

"I was horny?" Mac's eyebrows shot up in disbelief. "Now I wish I hadn't cleaned it up."

"You cleaned it up?" Vic started to rise to see if it was really true. Mac grabbed his chin, and turned his head until their eyes met.

"You can't even see where it happened. These floors are waxed and re-waxed. The staff doesn't have anything else to do around here. It would take a year for something spilled to even get to the wood."

Vic moved his chin out of Mac's grasp. "I can still smell the lime."

"I tossed the broken glass and the limes into the waste basket in the corner. Stop being so fucking anal. I cleaned up the floor. Let it go."

_'I'm not anal. You let that go!'_ was about to pop out of Vic's mouth, but he thought better of it. He wasn't in the mood for a pissing match, and this was the perfect set-up for a bout of _am not, are too._ There was still a tingle of anger charging his nerves from the start he'd gotten at being surprised by Mac. It was quickly turning into the old frustration that Mac was so good at triggering in him.

"Why didn't you wake me?" he asked more sourly than he'd intended as he wiped the back of his hand across his mouth.

Mac shrugged. "Thought you must need the sleep. Besides," he glanced away, uncomfortable for a moment, "I haven't been around you that much lately, and it was kind of nice just to be near you." His voice trailed off as the sentiment brought a sudden color to his cheeks.

God, how could he be so impatient with Mac, Vic chastised himself. Mac had been through so much, being shot, the infection and the loss of the city life that he thrived on. Vic gave him a slight smile trying to tell him that it was good to finally be with him as well. It wasn't enough, not by half for either of them. Vic snagged Mac by the neck and drew him down into a kiss. He kept hold of Mac after they parted. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "I never meant to keep you away. I never meant to make you so unhappy."

Mac pulled back and sat up, crossing his legs under him. He waved one hand as if dismissing the whole thing, but he didn't look up. "We've never really gotten the hang of deciphering what we mean from what we do to each other." He looked at Vic, and then smiled. "Forget about it. You said it was over, and I hope to God it _is_ over."

Vic sat up and pushed himself back until he leaned against the mahogany headboard. "I should tell you I'm sorry about something else too."

Mac started to uncross his legs. "I don't think I want to hear this."

Vic grabbed his arm. This wasn't how he had planned it. The _Big Apology_ was a tender, sweet moment that almost always brought him to tears. At least it had been that way all the nights he'd rehearsed it, as he lay alone in this bed. That big apology, however, had been given to a perfect world Mac Ramsey, not the real one that now tugged his arm out of Vic's grasp.

"Look." Mac pointed a warning finger at him. "You've heard of that don't ask, don't tell rule? Well, I think that's the way we should operate from now on. I don't want to hear any apologizes about other guys. Okay?"

"What? I... just... what?" Vic tried to stammer out some translation of what he'd just heard. This was definitely not in the _Big Apology_ playbook.

"I'm trying to get past Elliot." Mac wrinkled his nose as if just the sound of the name was offensive. "I don't want to know, even if you're apologizing, about any other guys." He arched an eyebrow. "Or in your case maybe some women that you've been fucking around with."

Vic leaned forward, heat prickling up his neck. He'd devoted himself to Mac the last few months, and the guy still had doubts. "Where do you get off thinking I'm fucking around with someone else?" It was more of a challenge than a question.

Mac's mouth screwed up into an annoying smirk. "Well, if I remember correctly you've been infidelity central lately."

Vic raised a warning finger. If he could just get him to shut-up, get back to the plan, and try to get on with a heart-felt apology. His best intentions couldn't stop his frustration getting away from him. "Christ! You are the most..." Vic stopped himself. He took a deep breath. He had to keep reminding himself that this was the _Big Apology._ He owed it to Mac, despite the fact that he really didn't think he deserved it at the moment. "I was going to apologize to you because I couldn't get to the shooter in time to protect you." His words came out with a terse, staccato edge despite the way he had wanted them to sound. 

Mac gave a surprised laugh. "Is that it? Jeez, really? That's your apology? I've had people tell me to go to hell nicer than that."

"Maybe that's what I should have said." Anger crested in Vic as he began to slide off the bed.

Mac dove at him, wrestling him back, and securing him with an arm around Vic's waist. Vic struggled to get out of his grasp, annoyance and resentment flashing heat through his body.

"You're not going anywhere," Mac told him as he hooked a leg over Vic's. "New rules, you don't fucking walk away from me, ever again!"

Mac's fingers dug painfully into Vic's side to keep him on the bed. Vic squirmed to get away from them. "Just accept my apology, or tell me to fuck off." He slapped at Mac's hand. "But get your damn fingers out of my ribs!"

"You going to stay?"

"Yeah, okay, I'll stay." He grunted out the words, and was finally able to grab Mac's hand and pull it away. He held the fingers in a firm grip, and looked up into Mac's dimpled grin. "You shit-head," Vic grumbled.

"Oh Vic, what a sweet-talker."

Vic released Mac's hand, and scooted back up the bed. "Yeah? And you're so gracious about accepting apologies," he said as he eased himself into the pile of pillows resting against the mahogany headboard, and rubbed the sore spot on his side.

Mac tucked his legs under as he seated himself once more next to Vic. "What are you apologizing for? You blew the bastard's shoulder away."

"If I'd been one step faster," he stabbed his index finger into his open palm, "you wouldn't have been shot. You wouldn't have had the infection. You wouldn't..."

"Jeez Vic," Mac interrupted. "You know this guilt thing you do is the same as being conceited."

"I'm not conceited!"

"Sometimes you come off like you think you can be perfect. What's the diff? You're not perfect, Vic. You're never going to be perfect no matter how hard you try. You couldn't keep me from getting shot, accept it. You did keep me from getting killed. That's the important part." Mac grinned. "At least to me, anyway. You did as much as anyone could have done in that situation."

Vic gave an abrupt negative shake of his head. "I can't accept that."

"You can't accept that?" Mac repeated the words in an incredulous tone. "Who do you think you are, fucking Superman?" 

"If we don't continue to try to be better, what's the point?"

"When has _trying_ ever been enough for you?" Mac marked out layers in the air with his hand. "You set up these impossible goals for yourself, and then you're actually surprised when you can't reach them."

Mac didn't understand. How could he? Stripper, club kid, thief; he hadn't spent his childhood as Vic had with priests, nuns and a mother who constantly railed at him that he could be perfect if he just tried. They had all assured him that the only reason he wasn't perfect was because he wasn't trying hard enough. Vic frowned, a disgusted snort curling his lips. "Then what you're saying is that I shouldn't try do my best?"

"Your best is one thing." Mac raised a finger along with his eyebrow. "One thing that never seems to be good enough as far as you're concerned." He shrugged, signaling his lack of comprehension. "You want to be some big super-hero god or something. You think you can only do your best if you're a combo of Serpico, Mother Teresa and the X-Men all rolled into one."

"What?" Vic sat forward. "Did someone die and leave you their comic book collection? Do you really think I'm going to have this conversation with a guy whose philosophy of life comes from... from... cartoons?"

"Good point, Vic." Mac shot his hand out, palm displayed. "We don't need to have this conversation at all. You don't have anything to apologize for, no matter what _Our Lady of Perpetual Guilt Catechism_ tells you."

Frustration rippled through him. This wasn't the way it was supposed to be. Mac should show him some understanding about how bad he felt. Yeah, right. Vic wasn't finished yet. He knew that sometimes if he verbally smacked Mac upside the head the importance of a situation would finally sink in, and Mac would actually pay attention.

"Listen..."

But Mac wasn't listening. "Although, _certain_ aspects of this conversation are pretty interesting." Mac's fingertips crept up the inside of Vic's bare leg. "I bet you'd be smokin' sexy in tights and a cape." 

"Stop it!" Vic grabbed his fingers, and jerked them away from the goose flesh Mac had created.

"You don't want to see _my_ super powers?" Mac grinned. "They're working already." He nodded towards Vic's gradually rising erection. "See, I've been able to transform you from Mr. Limp Dick into a man of steel with the power of my erotic touch." Mac jumped to his knees, jerking his hand out of Vic's, and flexed as if he were in a body building competition. "Because I am the ripped and sexy Super Hero Manly Man."

Vic laughed, despite the desire to punch Mac for teasing this annoying instant hard-on out of him. "I think you're really the goofy side-kick Delusional Boy."

Mac stopped posing and looked thoughtfully down at Vic's crotch. "I don't know, Vic. That looks like the handy work of an evolved being who knows how to turn flaccid flesh into tempered metal. I'll use my pump-up vision." Mac scrunched his face and concentrated for a moment. "Look, it's coming to life right before my very eyes."

Vic's cock jumped despite his best efforts not to play along. He shoved Mac away as an embarrassing heat spread over his skin making him twitch even more.

"Knock it off," he warned before Mac could speak.

Mac rocked back and folded his legs under him again. "Be careful or everyone will take you for that closeted crime fighter Tight-Ass."

"This is stupid," Vic snarled, as his body betrayed him with a series of tremors.

Mac snickered ruefully. "You really hate it when I turn you on when you don't want it." 

"Who says you're doing this?"

Mac smiled knowingly. His gaze drifted down Vic's body appreciating the view. He stopped when he reached Vic's growing cock. He licked his lips like a parched man staring at a bubbling fountain.

Vic bit the inside of his mouth trying not to react. He couldn't move his eyes away from that perfect tongue, though, as it sensually caressed that equally perfect mouth. Mac had barely reached the middle of his lower lip when Vic jerked as if he'd been shocked.

Mac grinned. "Who says I'm doing this? Mr. Man does."

Vic reached out and grabbed Mac's own healthy erection. He gave it a teasing stroke. "Your man isn't exactly quiet."

Mac arched his neck as Vic found a particularly sensitive spot and tormented it. "I'm not trying to deny it's happening." His voice broke on the last word. He nearly laughed as he grabbed Vic's hand and shoved it aside.

Vic lunged forward and pushed Mac down. He rolled quickly onto Mac and his lips found that place just behind his ear that drove him nuts. To Mac's credit he held out a good fifteen seconds before he was twisting and struggling to get free as he laughed and called out, "Stop it, man. Stop it! You're killin' me!"

Vic let up long enough to plant his full weight on Mac pinning him to the bed. He pushed into him, feeling Mac's hardness caress his own growing erection. He played his body across Mac's, bowing stiff members against each other until sweet moans sang from both of them. 

"It's my turn to hold you down and make you come," he whispered, and Mac arched into him.

Vic moved his hands from where they held Mac's arms to the gray T-shirt that the other man still wore. He had it halfway up when a vice-like grip clamped onto his wrist.

"Don't." The word rang out in a tone of finality that he didn't think could come from Mac. He looked into dark brown eyes that had become as hard as black diamond.

"No." Again, the certainty that this wasn't going to happen, that discussion was not an option was carried in that one simple word.

"Mac?" Vic tested, but didn't release the wad of jersey material he had in his fist.

Mac raised his hand. "Just drop it."

"Come on," Vic coaxed. "I want to see the fur." That unexpected request had made Mac laugh the first time he'd voiced it, long ago. This time his face was set in a stony scowl.

"Forget it." Mac pushed at Vic's hand. "We do it with the shirt on or forget it."

Vic let go of the T-shirt. The sudden exchange had left them both at half-mast. Nothing was going to happen until they settled this. Vic moved so that he leaned across Mac's body. Mac was ready to bolt. Vic could see it in his face. He had anticipated this would happen, but hoped he was wrong. Mac proved that he wasn't.

"What's going on?"

"What do you think?" Mac shot back as he pulled the T-shirt down.

"Things were pretty hot and then..."

"Come on Vic, not even _you > are that thick."_

"Oh, thanks for the vote of confidence there, buddy."

"The shirt stays until after the operations. Live with it, or go back to jerking off."

Vic fought the heat that drove him to want to smack that smart mouth right off Mac's scowling face. He knew Mac was going to be sensitive about the scar, but had understood that at least the wound was healed now.

"What operations? Carolyn said you were okay." Mac gave him a _don't you know anything_ look that didn't help his mood.

"The doctor who came to the island last week was a specialist, a plastic surgeon," Mac told him. "He said it could take up to four operations before the scar was gone. The Director okayed anything the Doctor thought was necessary." A smug tone crept into Mac's voice. "And I'm going to get my teeth capped too."

"What?" Vic wrinkled his nose in puzzlement. "What has that got to do with your scar? Why do you need to cap your teeth, anyway?"

"They're too short."

"Too short for what?" In response, Mac flashed the impish grin that could infuriate Vic or break his heart. Right now it was just confusing. "And that's related to your being shot how?"

"The Doctor has a sister-in-law who is a dentist that works for the agency. He feels that my teeth being too short could throw off my bite. That could place undue strain on my jaw. Which in turn could throw off the alignment of my neck. That would affect the placement of my shoulders," his finger traced down his throat and out to his collar bone, "and cause complications with the plastic surgery by putting too much tension on the skin while it's healing." Mac was no longer defensive, but fully involved with the intricacies of his plan.

Vic shook his head. "Was this his idea or yours?" 

"His," he replied too quickly. "Well..." He glanced away as Vic frowned at him. "He said his sister-in-law could cap my teeth, and I sort of helped him along with the details."

"So you're going to scam the Director to get your teeth capped?"

"She okayed _anything_ that was necessary. And it's definitely not a scam. The Doctor feels that it's a medical necessity."

Vic was smiling despite himself. "And it became a medical necessity when you helped him along with his diagnosis?" 

Mac cast his eyes down in his best pose of fake humility. "I can't help it if I like to keep up with the medical journals." He looked up and batted his eyes. "It's an interest of mine."

Vic laughed out loud just imagining the look on the Director's face as Mac used this explanation and those oh so innocent eyes in defense of the huge dentist bill that would appear on the budget at the end of the fiscal year. Still smiling he asked, "Why didn't you just make a request to have your teeth capped?"

"Didn't you read the memo that came out last quarter? The Agency isn't covering any procedure that is purely cosmetic unless it's directly related to a job injury." Mac's voice trailed off. "No, I guess you wouldn't have paid attention to anything that had to do with improving your looks."

Vic mugged exaggerated offense, and reached over to cuff Mac's ear while the other man laughed.

"Hey," Mac protested. "I don't want to have to have more work done. You don't want to tamper with perfection."

Vic was glad to hear him laugh. Maybe now they could make some headway on this T-shirt issue. "I still don't see why you need your teeth capped."

"They're too short," he said again baring his teeth at Vic.

"They're just fine."

"Just fine may be good enough for you, but I want drop dead gorgeous teeth."

"I don't think teeth can be gorgeous."

"Well, whatever the dental equivalent is of _he smiled at me and now I can die happy_."

Vic laughed and Mac smiled back at him. He still couldn't see the reason he wanted a change. Vic was quite content to die in his arms right now, just the way he was. "You better not make those new teeth too long. I still want to be able to get my pound of flesh in that mouth."

Mac made a coy nod with his head. "It may take some getting used to. We may have to practice... a lot."

"Let's start now." Vic reached for the T-shirt, and had it up to mid chest before Mac caught his hand.

"What part of no way in hell did you not hear before?"

"It's not the same..."

"It's the way it's going to be."

Vic tried again. "I want to see the fur."

Mac smiled and a grudging laugh escaped. "I can't believe how the straight boy gets turned on by chest hair."

"Mac," Vic said quietly, "that scar doesn't change anything between us. I have scars and they've never turned you off. Have they?" he asked urgently when there was no answer.

"It's different with you," Mac started slowly. "You're this big, sexy warrior kind of dude. You're supposed to have scars. It just adds to the sexiness. Think about it. You can wear those crappy, cheap, threadbare jeans, and I still want to lick you all over. I... I have to try harder. I don't have it all _naturally_ like you do."

Vic was speechless. The most effortlessly sexy person he'd ever met in his life had just said he was genuinely attractive. He'd never thought of Mac as insecure. Cocky and arrogant, yes, but never insecure. Vic had been certain that the scar was an affront to his vanity, to the image of perfection that Mac saw of himself. Or at least the image that Vic saw every time he looked at him. How could he ever think he had to try? Mac only had to _be_ to attract anyone and everyone. Vic pulled himself up next to Mac and kissed him softly. They parted and he looked into Mac's eyes. They were soft now and barely hiding his fears.

"There could never be anything that could happen to you that would make you less than perfect to me."

Mac was silent for a long time before he looked up at Vic and said softly, "Thank you."

Vic knew it was for more than just the moment. "Yeah, you too," he whispered back.

Mac's hand shot up to cover his mouth as his faced grimaced into a silent cry.

Vic wiped away the tears with his thumb.

After a moment Mac brushed his hand aside, and swiped at the tears himself. "It's the damn drugs they give me," he said in a thin voice as he tried to dismiss what had just happened. "I'm never this... this... emotional."

"Yeah, it's the drugs," Vic agreed trying to comfort him. He wrapped an arm around Mac's waist. His hand moved to caress Mac's stomach and side in an easy rub that he knew he liked. It wasn't long before Mac was himself again and kissing Vic with increasing heat.

Vic raised himself up on one elbow and looked down at Mac. "I don't want to wait through maybe four operations for things to be the way they were. Take the T-shirt off. You take it off... for me."

He could see the stubborn refusal return to Mac's eyes. Maybe if he tried a different strategy. Vic put his index finger in his mouth, and then quickly wiped it on Mac's shirt. "Let's get you out of these wet clothes," he said in his best seductive tone.

Mac's eyes popped as he choked out a laugh. "What the hell was that?"

Vic played with the hem of the T-shirt. "Come on, Mac. This shirt would look great with your shorts in a crumpled heap on the floor."

Mac was grinning broadly. "Oh I get it now. These are your best, and I use the word advisedly, pick-up lines."

Vic gave him the head dip, the fluttered eyelashes and his smokiest voice. "I really want you to see how I look when you're naked."

A scream of laughter nearly doubled Mac. He stared at Vic for a moment and then shook his head. "Buddy, buddy, buddy. Now I _know_ why you're going steady with your right hand."

Vic grinned back at him. "Well, how about it?" He gave the T-shirt a little tug. "The world's not going to end."

Mac was suddenly serious again. "You're not going to let up on this are you?"

"Probably not."

Mac took hold of the bottom of the T-shirt. "We all know what a stubborn shit you..." He froze and stared at Vic. "Not one word!"

Heat flashed through Vic. "What kind of a bastard do you think I..." He broke off abruptly remembering that this was a true sacrifice from Mac. "Not a word," he confirmed.

Mac pulled the T-shirt awkwardly over his head, and kept it wadded in one hand as if he was ready to throw it back on in a moment. 

The scar tissue was still a vivid blue-red. It wasn't as large as it had seemed when Vic saw it under the wet wrinkle of fabric at the outdoor shower. It was only the size of a quarter, maybe a little larger. It was irregular and ridged in places. Vic couldn't image, however, any surgeon, no matter how skilled, making the whole thing disappear.

"Well, say something!" Mac demanded.

"You told me not to say a word!" Vic snapped back at him.

"I can't stand you just staring at me."

"I've seen worse."

"Not on me."

This really wasn't that big a deal, except if you were Mac Ramsey. Vic had seen much worse. As gunshot scars go this was really pretty minimal, but he didn't think he'd ever convince Mac of that.

"I've _got_ worse," he offered. He had a scar on the back of his left thigh from a drug bust gone bad. The emergency room visit had gone even worse. The now white scar tissue was ridged and splattered over three square inches, and looked like an impact crater on the moon.

"I know," Mac said with an embarrassed dip of his head. "I told you, that's you. It's what makes you so sexy."

A little bell went off in Vic's head. He rarely remembered he had the scar unless for some reason his clothes chaffed it. When they made love, though, at some point Mac would always maneuver him into a position where he could kiss the back of his legs. Vic had thought it was because Mac knew how much the teasing kisses turned him on. He never dreamed that Mac was the one being turned on by the sight of that scar.

Vic slowly pulled himself up towards Mac's face. "I'm telling you it's not a big deal." 

Mac looked away. "I've never had any scars on my body, ever."

"You've got a beaut of a circumcision scar."

Mac turned and faced him with an amused, but embarrassed grin. "You sick bastard. That doesn't count."

"Neither does this one." Vic bent towards Mac's shoulder. He could feel the other man tense, but he didn't stop. He placed his lips, gingerly over the scar and left a sweet kiss. The world did not stop. He placed another, then traced the irregular surface with his half open mouth. Finally, as his lips covered the spot and his tongue explored the ridges and valleys of the puckered skin Mac threaded his fingers through Vic's hair. The tug was slight but insistent. Vic moved his head towards Mac and was drawn to his lips. The kiss he was given started in a timid brush, hesitant yet needy. By the time they broke, breath panting against each other's cheeks, it had reached a knowing fervor that charged both their bodies.

"You're a good man, Vic," Mac whispered as his lips brushed over Vic's eyelid.

"You make me that way," Vic told him as he leaned closer, offering his other closed eye to be kissed. He heard the soft rhythmic sniffing and opened his eyes. His hands rose to brace Mac's face. "Don't. Come on," he encouraged. "Don't do this. There's no reason to."

Mac shook his head out of Vic's grasp and swiped at his nose. "It's the damn drugs, again." He gave an embarrassed laugh, but looked on the verge of breaking down.

Vic propped himself on one elbow beside Mac. His free hand stroked through the thicket of dark hair on the other man's chest. "You need to work with your drugs, man."

Mac laughed again, and it had a real note of mirth in it this time. "Yeah, right. I'm going to take that kind of advice from an ex-narc."

"Actually, I heard Robin Williams say that on TV once. I think he was speaking from experience."

Mac raised his hand and waited a beat before Vic felt the touch of his fingers on his cheek. For a moment he was in a vortex of memories. All the times when they were first partnered that he had wanted to touch Mac, all the stuttering movements that should have ended in an embrace, a kiss or at least a loving touch like this one, that were never born. Both of them had experienced those awkward occasions of wanting to feel the solidity of the other under their hands. Wanting even more than that to be touched in return, only to place their hands on the table, or in a coat pocket, or just anywhere that wasn't the other man's body. It felt strange yet wonderful to Vic that they could be so free with each other now.

Mac rested his palm against Vic's cheek, and Vic turned into the touch.

"I thought I was going to..." Mac started, than cleared his throat. "I thought I'd lost you."

Vic opened his eyes, but kept his face pressed against Mac's hand. "No chance of that." He smiled. "You're stuck with me."

"My bad luck." Mac smiled back, then looked down at Vic's hand as it continued to stroke over his chest. "Straight boy likes the fur," he teased.

A ripple of embarrassment crept over Vic. He always felt like he'd been caught at something when Mac noticed this attention. He fought through his discomfort and only hesitated a moment, though, before he slid his body onto Mac's. Vic rested his chest over the heat of the other man's groin. He bent his head slowly, and Mac's eyes shut with anticipation. Vic turned his cheek and let the soft, tickling caress of hair touch his skin as he moved his face this way and that. Straight boy loved the fur, despite the fact he hated to admit it. Maybe that was part of the allure? There was something so wrong and nasty about reveling in the raw masculinity of Mac's hairy chest that made the act wickedly pleasing. There was no excuse that could be made, and no escaping the fact that he wanted to have sex with another man as the sensation of the hair under his fingertips telegraphed heat to his cock. His guilty little pleasure, his secret dirty desire was out in the open now. The first time he had been bold enough to ask to see the fur he couldn't follow through. He had allowed himself a few cursory swipes, letting the hair strafe his lips with a nearly unbearable sensation. Too soon the feeling became overwhelming and he'd withdrawn. The situation crumbled into jokes, and he lost any chance to explore the sensuality the moment had promised him. 

Now, he let himself feel the pure rush of giving in to the temptation of the fur. He swam in the sensation of body hair against his skin. He slid his lips over the mounds of Mac's pecs, and was kissed back by the tingling caress of his wiry pelt. As he worshipped Mac's chest Vic felt pagan and primal. He wished that this moment of lust could be captured on one of those black and red Greek vases he had seen during a museum field trip in high school. One glance at the painted image of two men wrestling had set off an uncomfortable erotic charge in him then. Now, he knew it was his initial calling to be a devotee of the fur. Only ancient peoples, still free to be fully human, could have the magic to depict what he was feeling at this moment.

Mac moved under him, occasionally moaning as the pleasure radiated between them. Mac's hands pushed at his shoulders, gently at first, then more insistently. Was it all too raw for him as well? Vic knew he could convince him that this was the way it was meant to be between them. He'd stop in a minute and explain, in just a minute or so. He just had to feel that runner of hair in the center of Mac's stomach glide across his cheek one more time.

Mac jerked Vic's head up by the hair. "Hey! Come back to earth! Okay?" Mac leaned down and kissed his half-open mouth. "Jeez," he said as he pulled away and looked at Vic, but didn't let go of his hair. "You're acting like some glassy-eyed tomcat that's rolled in a pound of catnip."

Vic smiled a lopsided grin and licked Mac's stomach. "Maybe I have." He shook his head free from Mac's grip and crawled up his body until their lips nearly touched. "Maybe you're my catnip." 

Mac gave a resigned sigh. "Man, it's feast or famine with you lately." He tried to move from under Vic, but was held tightly. "Let me up, Vic." Mac lay motionless waiting for release.

"What if I don't?" Vic teased.

"Then you'll miss out." Mac wormed one arm out and turned towards the edge of the bed. Vic didn't budge. "I'm going to ask you one more time, let me up."

"Or you'll what," Vic leaned closer and snickered, "kick my ass?"

"Pretty much." 

Vic barely felt the shove, but was rocketed to the other side of the bed. He scrambled not to fall off the edge. "What the hell was that for?" 

"I warned you." Mac's voice was muffled as he leaned over the edge of the bed. He righted himself in a moment and triumphantly held up a rainbow striped mesh shopping bag. "I have a surprise!" He grinned and offered the bag to Vic.

Vic raised his hands and shook his head. "I'm not eating any eel! Especially some eel you've been storing under my bed."

"It's not eel, Doofus." Mac pushed him down and straddled Vic's thighs. "Where'd that come from, anyway?" He didn't let Vic answer. "Although, eel does sound good." He started pulling out objects wrapped in tissue paper.

Vic grabbed him by the chin. "Eel is not good, not under any circumstances."

Mac shook his head out of Vic's grasp. "Forget the eel, okay?" He held up a fur-covered mitt. "We have toys!"

Vic took it from his hands, and turned it over inspecting the soft, plush rabbit fur that covered the surface of the mitten. "Is this what you were looking for when I fell asleep? You and your sick, fuckin' toys."

Mac pulled out another and slipped it on. "Excuse me? My sick, fuckin' toys have taken you places that you couldn't even imagine."

Vic saw it coming, but still wasn't ready when Mac ran his gloved hand over his stomach, up his chest and over his lips and nose. He squirmed despite his best intentions not to. 

Mac snickered. "Not so sick, but pretty damn sexy, huh?"

Vic quickly scooted into a sitting position. He pulled his own glove on and snagged Mac's free hand, pulling it up and holding it over his head. Mac struggled for a second, but saw his own opportunity. Mac's side and arm were open and vulnerable, but Vic was just as unprotected as he held him.

Vic felt Mac tense as he slowly drew the soft fur of the glove over his bare skin. The lightly tickling touch was as much of a shock to Vic when Mac touched him. Mac's cock twitched against his as they sat chest and groin touching while they tormented each other. As he reached that unbearable spot just below the armpit he felt a jerk, almost a tug as Mac involuntarily tried to lower his arm.

Vic smiled at him and their eyes locked. "Tickles?"

Mac's hand found the same spot on Vic and they both swirled the fur with a tantalizing, slow touch over the other's sensitive skin.

"You tell me," Mac whispered.

"Torture." The word came softly, but was almost a taunt.

"Want to stop?" Mac asked, still caught firmly in Vic's grasp.

"You first," Vic told him as his hand drifted further down Mac's side.

"No way." 

"I'll stop," Vic returned to the spot beneath Mac's armpit and the other man jerked again, "if you let me play with you for five minutes, nothing off limits."

"Dream on. You'll come before I ever give up."

That was a very real possibility since Vic realized that Mac was aware of his cock rubbing against the other man's leg.

They began to kiss. Sparring with soft teasing kisses that matched the titillation on their skin. Vic had moved so that Mac's cock rested against his belly and he rocked rubbing the hard member as he worked his own cock against Mac's leg. It was all unbearably arousing, and promised an intense release that Vic could only get from these tests of will.

Mac suddenly pushed him away, and moved towards the edge of the bed, pulling off the fur glove. "I don't want it to end like this."

Vic was stunned. He was so close that this interruption was almost painful. Anger bolted through him, and he slammed his hand onto the bed. "What the fuck's wrong with you? I was gonna' come!"

"I know," Mac threw over his shoulder as he rummaged in the shopping bag again.

"You _know_ and you stopped anyway! Funny you don't look suicidal, but obviously you're trying to make me kill you."

"Oh shut up you whiny, fucker," Mac told him as he turned around and pushed Vic down onto the bed. He straddled him again, and once more had two packages in his hand. "I have more toys, and I saved the best for last."

Vic snatched the plastic encased card from Mac's hand. He glanced at it. The fact that he couldn't make out what it was made him even more frustrated.

"What the hell is this?"

Mac jerked it out of his grasp. "If you let me open it I'll show you!" He sounded as short-tempered as Vic did.

"Where did you get all this shit? You haven't left the grounds since we got here." Suspicion flared in Vic. So now he'd hear how Mac had been sneaking off on shopping trips while Vic had been agonized over his recovery.

"Rafe." Mac was having trouble getting the plastic clamshell on the package to come apart.

"Rafe?" Vic tried to sit up as best he could with Mac straddling him. "You mean that kid in housekeeping?"

Mac grinned. "That hot kid, and he's nearly twenty-one by the way, in housekeeping who would do anything for _Mr. Vic._ " He let the name ring out in a lilting island accent.

"Are you out of your mind? You sent one of the staff off to buy sex toys for you?"

"I had to." Mac was still concentrating on opening the package. "I was getting tired of hearing all of his questions about you. _Does Mr. Vic play soccer? Does Mr. Vic watch movies? Does Mr. Vic read a lot?_ I thought if he ran a few errands for me he'd learn that I'm what Mr. Vic does." 

Vic buried his face in his hands. "This is so humiliating. I'll never be able to look at that kid again."

"Ah, that's the whole point. Voilà!" Mac held up a thin cylindrical piece of transparent purple rubber.

Vic peeked out from between his fingers. "What in god's freakin' name is that?"

"It is a streamlined personal vibrator." Mac looked pleased, and made a sweeping display motion with his free hand.

Vic picked up the discarded package. " _Jelly Joy Vibrator._ No way."

"Way!"

"You've gone too far this time."

"Come on, Vic. This is going to be great."

"We had an agreement. You don't ask me to do pervert stuff, and I don't beat the shit out of you."

"Vic, look at it." Mac's tone became cajoling as he smiled and held out the glistening vibrator. "It's all bendy and soft." Mac manipulated the long thin tip this way and that as he spoke. "It's not going to hurt you." He upped the amps on his most winning smile. "It's like a big, purple, vibrating gummy bear."

Vic gave an incredulous laugh. "Right. That's the image of something I _really > want to put up my ass."_

"I've got one, too." Mac produced a second package from the shopping bag. His was bright yellow. 

"Well, that's just great, but we can't use them anyway because there's no lube." Vic smiled triumphantly, feeling that he'd pretty much put an end to this nonsense. "Now, let's get back to getting off."

As he reached for him Mac turned back to the shopping bag. "There's lube. I told that little shit to get lube. Where is it?"

Vic moaned. "You had Rafe buy lube for you?"

"For us. Besides, I wanted to make it clear who was doing what to you." Mac pulled out another small bundle of tissue paper and opened it. "Why did that idiot buy these little tubes. I told him to get a big pump bottle of _Wet_."

"Fine." Vic threw down the empty package. "You play your power games with the help. I think our moment has passed." He tried to get up, but Mac had planted himself at the center of gravity and one well placed finger on his forehead kept Vic from rising.

"Mac!"

Mac reached behind him and wrapped his hand around Vic's cock. "I think there's some moment left here."

The warmth of his hand, the pressure, the silky slide of his palm along the shaft was enough to make Vic squirm and the blood rush back.

"I don't want that purple thing." Vic's tone was husky and low as he tried to get the words out around the arousal that threatened to rob him of speech. There was a click and he opened his eyes at the soft metallic hum. 

Mac lowered the little wand of purple to his chest. "Give it a chance and you won't want it any other way." 

He played the tip of the vibrator over Vic's nipple. The sensation was maddening, and aroused him to the core. Vic endured it as long as he could. Not wanting it to end, but hardly able to stand it. He grabbed Mac's wrist and thrust it away.

"When I say stop you stop it, at that instant. Not a few seconds later, but the second I tell you."

"Always." Mac gave a serious nod of his head. He turned off the purple vibrator and then tore open the second one, having figured out the packaging. He handed it to Vic. "You do me first, then I'll do you. We'll get comfortable and turn them on together." 

Vic looked skeptically at the yellow jellied rod in his hand. "I think comfortable and this thing are two totally contradictory ideas."

Mac opened a tube of the lubricant and handed it to him. "Stop complaining, _Virg,_ " he said as he lay down on his back and spread his legs, draping one over Vic's shoulder. "You've had much bigger things than that up your plaster." Mac wrapped a hand around his own cock and smiled.

"That was natural." Vic shook his head as he smeared the vibrator with lube. "This thing is... I don't know what this thing is."

"It's fun. It's adventure, and it's about time you were putting it in."

Vic sighed. "Why do I let you talk me into this shit?"

"Because if you don't you'll end up in a basement office with no windows as a fat, gray-haired security guard with a hairy palm. I'm saving you from your boring self, and you're welcome. Ah!"

Mac shuddered at the initial chill of the lube being applied directly from the tube. Vic usually warmed it between his fingers before he touched Mac, but he'd found this could be an effective way to silence him. He worked the tight ring of muscle until he felt the resistance fade. The slim vibrator fit easily, and Mac gave him a lusty smile when he finished.

"Comfortable," Mac said. "I can barely feel it."

"Is that a good thing, or something you need to have corrected?"

"I'm trying to be encouraging here." Mac picked up the purple vibrator. "You can be such a dickhead."

Vic took a deep breath and laid down on the bed, assuming the same position Mac had. He brought up one arm to cover his eyes and waited.

"Jeez, you look relaxed," Mac said. "You want a last meal to go with that blindfold?"

"Mac! I'm trying here. That doesn't mean I have to like it."

Mac brushed his open palm up the length of Vic's body from groin to neck, and Vic shivered. "You _will_ like it." His voice was smoky and filled with genuine lust. "I promise, you'll like it."

Vic wanted to grab Mac's arm, somehow control his touch. Mac always used this ceremony of lubrication to mercilessly tease him. He denied it of course and tried to say it was all in Vic's head. Maybe it was. He'd never allowed anyone to touch him like this. He'd left bruises on Elliot's throat the one time he had even tried. It was the biggest risk he could think of, and the most monumental act of trust he'd ever made. 

Mac's fingers were like electrodes. Each touch sending sparks up his nerves, threatening to make him jump. Mac stroked and kneaded, the lube growing warm and slippery as his fingers breached the impenetrable. Vic always felt on the verge of pushing him away, of admitting that it was all too arousing to stand. Maybe it _was_ in his head. Perhaps there was a reason why he didn't trust anyone with this secret place. Because during each encounter Mac's fingers brought him to the edge of insanity while he touched him.

There was a momentary loss of sensation as Mac reached for the vibrator. As much as Vic fought not to grab his hands while he prepared him, it was equally a struggle when the sensation ceased not to yell out, _"God, please don't stop."_ This had to be some definition of hell, maybe his own private hell, this act that he couldn't endure yet didn't want to end. 

He felt the initial nudge of the vibrator as Mac started to insert the thing. It slid in with a cool touch making him aware of the heat that charged his body. He squirmed slightly, and the pliable rod moved with him. It wasn't uncomfortable, as Mac had pointed out, but it was definitely something that could not be ignored.

"You doing okay?" Mac asked as he lay down beside Vic.

Vic had to clear his throat before he could speak. "Yeah, it's just... I feel... it feels... cool."

"It'll warm up fast." Mac took one of Vic's hands and spread lube over his palm. "Now, reach down here." Mac drew Vic's other hand between his legs as he pressed against his side. "You feel that little switch?"

"Yeah." Vic bent one leg to give Mac access to his own switch. 

"This gives a whole new meaning to turned on." Mac grinned at Vic. "You ready?"

Vic nodded.

Mac licked his lips. "On three. One. Two. Three."

The sensation bolted through Vic. He wanted to yank the thing out of him. He wanted to scream. He jerked against Mac and grunted out, "You're filthy."

"I knew you'd like it." Mac started to smile, but his head rocked back as Vic wrapped his slick hand around Mac's hard cock.

Mac found Vic as well. Mac's hand was equally lubed. That made his touch silky as he stroked. The intensity of so much sensation was hard to handle. Vic was sure his eyes had rolled back in his head at one point. This was insane and incredible. His entire body pulsed with arousal. He was certain that when he climaxed every cell in his being would burst apart from the accumulated mass of pleasure.

He jerked as Mac's fingers tickled up his balls. Mac touched the butt of the vibrator with his thumb making his fingers tremble. He moved his fingertips slowly over Vic's scrotum leaving a tingling trail.

"Fuck!" Vic swore into Mac's shoulder as the sensation captured him.

Mac continued to torment him, one hand tantalizing Vic's balls while the other pumped his cock.

Vic was trapped by Mac's expert torment. He tried to let the sensation take him and ride the pleasure rather than fight it. He was able to gain enough control this way to attempt to do the same to Mac. 

His thumb found the vibrator in Mac. He felt the buzz invade his fingers. He couldn't visit the exact same torment on Mac that he was enduring because of the way he was pressed against him. Instead, Vic tucked his fingertips under Mac's scrotum and let the tingling vibration concentrate on that sensitive spot where balls meet body. Mac moaned, and bit his lip.

Vic knew that neither of them could last long as they stroked each other's hard cocks while the vibrators teased them from within. He could give up and be swept away in orgasm at any moment, but he fought to hang on. He wanted to see how far this could take him. At the same time he was almost afraid that when he did come it would rip him apart. The concentration of sensation inside and out was making his legs began to tremble. He could just imagine a shaking, vibrating orgasm rumbling through his body, breaking him into glowing, crumbling bits and pieces as the pleasure quaked through him. 

Then it happened, without him wanting it to, without having any control over the thrill, it grabbed him, and shook him, and pulsed out orgasm to every part of his body. He existed in a moment of pleasure more pure and brilliant than anything he thought possible. 

It was only after it began to let loose of him that he became aware of Mac bucking against him, moaning and wildly tossing his head. After a moment Mac collapsed, his face pressed to Vic's shoulder. He mumbled something in Chinese and then fell silent.

Vic was suddenly aware of the vibrator that continued to buzz inside him. It was growing nearly painful now that his flesh was over-sensitized by his earthquake of an orgasm. There was no anticipation, no building arousal to buffer the sensation. He reached down and pulled the vibrator out. He was gulping in air as he turned it off. He tossed it on the floor and reached over to Mac. The other man lay motionless. When Vic touched his thigh Mac raised his leg a little to give Vic access. In a moment the yellow vibrator was silenced as well, and lay next to the purple one on the floor.

They lay still and quiet for some time, wrapped in each other's arms. Mac broke the silence first. "That was fucking amazing," he croaked out as he wiped the back of his hand across his mouth.

"Fuck, yeah," was all Vic could manage. He didn't want to move or even open his eyes, and he was certain that there wasn't a nucleus left in any cell in his body. Every single one had been blown out at point of orgasm, and replaced by glowing heavy matter that made him feel he was floating yet immobile at the same time.

"Man, you creamed all over me." Mac leaned back just a little and looked at the sticky mess that lay in glistening puddles on their skin.

"I think half that is you," Vic said but didn't move. "Well, maybe not half." He tried to smile, but didn't produce more than a smirk. He let a sigh escape and wondered at how willing he was to just lie there covered in jizz. After any other sex his compulsion to neatness would have sent him to the bathroom for a towel. He felt too good right now to be bothered by anything so minor.

"Are you going to do something about this?" Apparently Mac felt differently. "Since you seem to think that over half of this is yours, _Grandmaster Cum._ "

Vic reached up and shook a pillowcase off one of the many pillows at the head of the bed. "You do the honors," he told Mac as he handed him the soft cotton fabric.

Mac rose to his knees and made a few swipes across his own stomach and groin. Then he began to clean Vic. "I think you really enjoyed our adventure."

A soft laugh escaped. "What was your first clue?"

"Umm... that slack jawed, glassy eyed look you have on your face was a dead giveaway."

Vic stretched, luxuriating in the touch of Mac's hands as he carefully wiped away the evidence. "Maybe we can do this again, sometime?" An embarrassed laugh almost kept him from finishing the sentence.

"And maybe next time," Mac tossed the pillowcase on the floor and lay down next to Vic, "you won't be such a tight ass about trying new things." They stared at each other for a moment, then said in unison, "Pun intended." They both laughed.

Vic snagged Mac by the back of the head and drew him into a kiss. When they broke they smiled at each other again, and silently looked into each other's eyes.

"What are you thinking about?" Mac broke the reverie.

"Nothing," Vic answered, reluctant and nearly unable to put into words all the thoughts that jostled about in his mind as he looked at Mac's face.

"Come on," he encouraged. "You're not me. You're always thinking about something, and I can always see it in your eyes."

"It's just..." Vic started, but couldn't finish. His many thoughts had reduced down to one point, a singular defining thought that was at the same time comforting and dangerous.

"What? This isn't fair I tell you everything." 

Vic knew that wasn't exactly true. Mac did love to go on about himself and his day. There were many things, however, about Mac's life that remained a mystery between them. The big things, like many parts of his past, and most of the time what he was really feeling. Those were subjects that brought the curtain down and the walls up every time. Sure Mac talked to him, but not about anything as perilous as what Vic was thinking about now.

"Vic!" Mac frowned, a cranky child's frown. "I did this for you." He snatched up his T-shirt that was still lying on the bed beside Vic. "You can tell me what the hell you're thinking for this." He shook it at him.

Vic took the waded up jersey tee from Mac's hands and held it against his own chest. "It's just that... laying here with you... the way I feel right now..."

Mac waved his hand to hurry him along.

Vic cleared his throat. "It's just that if things were normal..." He motioned between Mac and himself.

"This _is normal,_ " Mac interrupted. "This is _normal_ for you and me, Vic." 

"Yeah," he agreed softly, and realized that for the first time that was really how he thought of what went on between them. "It's just that if things were different," he continued hesitantly, not looking at Mac. "The way I feel right now... I'd ask you... to marry me." He looked up when silence was the only response.

Mac looked stunned. It was never a good thing when Mac was left speechless. Vic was feeling that old familiar fight or flight heat creep over his body. Why hadn't he listened to his instincts and kept his mouth shut? He'd gone too far. Mac had always wanted to hear Vic say he loved him. He'd often made it a condition for orgasm. Maybe this admission of how he felt, how _much_ he felt for Mac had come off all wrong. Instead of revealing this overwhelming need he felt to be near him, his desire to share their lives, all Mac had heard was _I want to trap you, control you._

Then the defenses came up as if a switch had been tossed. A cocky smirk moved Mac's lips. "You're only saying that because you know there's no way it's ever going to happen." He laughed while he shook his head as if he couldn't believe the foolishness. 

Vic smiled, playing along as if it was just a joke. "Safe bet, huh?" Mac wasn't ready for this, maybe he never would be. Vic knew there was truth in what he was saying. They could probably never actually be married. That wasn't the real message in Mac's words though. This level of commitment was obviously something that scared him. Mac didn't have any problems with a sort of ownership over him. _Vic is my boy friend. His ass is mine and you stay away._ Taking the risk of offering your life to another person, and saying this is _it and forever_ was a different matter.

Vic, surprisingly, didn't feel any sting from his reaction. It was what he'd expected, and why he hadn't wanted to tell Mac what he had been thinking. Mac seemed almost relieved when he had agreed to turn it all into a joke.

"Proposing." Mac snorted out a laugh. "How straight is that?"

Vic shrugged and tossed the T-shirt he still held onto the floor.

"You can put the cock in the boy, but you can't take the straight out of straight boy," Mac teased.

"Hey I'm not the one who proposed to terrorist, psycho-bitch Claire."

Mac raised one finger. "Uh, wrong! She proposed to me." He flashed a self-satisfied grin. "I get that a lot."

"Witness me, for example." Vic pointed at himself.

Mac's smile suddenly vanished, an anxious fear replacing his arrogance. "You're not pissed-off at me are you?"

Vic wrinkled his brow, unsure of what he meant.

"You're not mad about what I said when you said what you said?" He was making a shuffling motion between them with his hands as he tried to explain without using the words that he apparently didn't want to hear again.

Vic shook his head no. Admittedly, he was a little disappointed. He had hoped that after all they had been through Mac would have grown up enough to accept the responsibility that came with making someone love him so much that a permanent arrangement was the only logical next step. Mostly, though, Vic was tired, too tired to risk either an argument or a gut wrenching heart-to-heart. Still, he didn't want to let Mac off the hook altogether.

"You saying that you never want to get married? You want to miss out on having the Director walk you down the aisle?"

Mac's face registered an instant negative, but just as quickly Vic's jibe registered with him, and he gave an offended frown. "What makes you think I'd be wearing the dress?" 

Vic smiled at the expected reaction. He ran his fingers lightly over one of Mac's biceps. "Well, you've got these long willowy arms..."

Mac jerked away and reared his head back. "Excuse me? If anybody has the bone structure to wear a tiara and veil it's you, RuVic. Remember what Elliot calls you? Gorgeous." 

"I was the best man at your almost wedding. The _best_ man," Vic looked down at his own cock, "with everything that implies."

"Well, hang on to that delusion buddy because the truth is I am the man, as in manly man, who really should shave twice a day." He triumphantly stroked the stubble on his chin. "What do you do," he reached out and ran a finger down Vic's cheek, "dab on a little Nair once a month?"

Vic brushed his hand aside. "In point of fact I remember someone complaining after the best night of sex in his entire life..."

"Your welcome," Mac interrupted with a smirk. 

Vic ignored him. "That he had whisker burn from _my_ manly beard on his lips, and his ass, and his stomach and his..."

"I'm the one with hair on my chest." Mac nodded as if that finished the conversation.

"What you've got goes way beyond hair, you've got fur," Vic replied. "Just because I don't look like I'm wearing a sweater when I'm naked doesn't mean I don't have hair."

"You keep telling yourself that." Mac leaned a little closer, and his eyes widened with surprise. "Oh, you're right there's one right there." His hand shot out and he yanked out a few fine hairs near Vic's left nipple.

"Ouch! You shit!" Vic scowled, and pushed Mac away.

"Sorry," Mac said but negated any sincerity with a laugh he couldn't contain. "I shouldn't have done that. Those are an endangered species, and you can't afford to lose any."

"Speaking of which," Vic said as he rubbed the still stinging patch of skin on his chest. "Just how big a fortune have you amassed being a donor at the hair loss clinic."

"Enough to buy Envy Boy a chest toupee for his next birthday. Or will you have hit puberty by then and finally be able to grow your own?" 

"Ill show you who's the man here," Vic said as he launched himself at Mac. He put up a fight, but it was easy for Vic to overpower him because the other man couldn't stop laughing. Vic had him pinned to the bed when a loud rumble intruded between them. 

Mac let out a shriek of laughter at the noise. "Time to feed my lions."

Vic loosened his grip and rose to his knees, but still kept Mac's forearms in a captive grip.

"You hungry?"

"Yah think? With deductive powers like that you should have made chief of detectives." A residual chuckle rumbled out of Mac as he looked up at Vic. "Must have been politics that kept you out of the job." 

He moved his arms and Vic let him escape from his grasp. Mac didn't try to rise though, but remained lying between Vic's legs. He reached up and absently stroked his hand, with silent admiration, over Vic's chest and stomach. The sensation sent a warm ripple through Vic's nerves. Mac's touch was natural and nearly comforting. 

"Somebody let my ice-cream melt," Mac said after a moment.

"You fell asleep," Vic protested.

"Well, someone's awake now." Mac patted his own stomach and smiled. "Go get me some ice-cream." His hands went to Vic's thighs and he tried to push him away.

Vic covered Macs hands with his own. "Chef is going to serve dinner soon."

"I'm hungry now, not soon."

"She's not going to give me ice-cream before dinner."

Mac's teasing smile disappeared and he looked as if he were about to reveal a secret truth. "She's just like the rest of us, Vic. She'd give you anything you wanted. Nobody can deny you anything. But you don't get that." Mac gave a sad laugh. "Lucky for us I guess. You'd be a very dangerous man if you ever realized how easily you can make anyone do anything for you." 

Vic felt almost embarrassed at the raw admiration in Mac's eyes. "Obviously you see something that I don't."

"I always have," Mac said quietly, then reached up to Vic.

Vic didn't wait for the fingers to reach his cheek. He bent towards Mac and placed a gentle kiss on his lips. "You're the only one who can get me to do _anything,_ " Vic whispered.

"Does that mean you're going to get me ice-cream?" There was a catch in his voice and a sudden blush across his cheeks.

"God, you are one high maintenance son-of-a-bitch, Ramsey." Vic ran a hand through Mac's thick unruly hair. "I'll try. That's all I can do."

Mac swiped at his nose with the back of his hand. "That's all you have to do."

Vic stepped off the bed and snagged his khaki shorts from the floor. "If Chef comes after me with a clever," he started as he stepped into the shorts.

"Don't bring me any of that rock and roll stuff."

"It's _rocky road,_ " Vic corrected, frustration ringing in his voice.

"Whatever." Mac stopped at the bathroom door. He had donned the gray T-shirt and was pulling up the matching jersey shorts he'd worn earlier. "I just don't want a bowl of that frozen corn syrup you eat."

"Maybe you should get it yourself."

Mac shrugged in disbelief. "You said you'd go. I have to take a piss." Then he made a shooing motion. "Go get it." He started to turn, but stopped. "I want green tea."

"Now, you want tea instead of ice-cream?" Vic pulled a pale blue, batik print cotton shirt from a hanger in his closet. The hanger flew to the floor with a clatter while he tried to catch it. He looked at Mac, and then at the hanger not certain which irritated him more. 

"No. I want green tea ice-cream."

"There isn't any green tea in the kitchen freezer." Vic retrieved the hanger from the floor and hooked it back on the rod in his closet. "There's mango in the house, the green tea is in the commissary building freezer."

"And the problem is? You go to the commissary freezer and bring me back a pint."

"The problem is," Vic shut the closet with a little too much force, "I'm not your fucking servant." He took a few quick steps to the door. "If I can get something out of Chef it'll be mango, and you'll like it." He stopped suddenly and his head fell forward. He took a deep breath before he turned. "I'm sorry. You just make me crazy sometimes. I'll see if I can get you some..."

"Vic."

"I know," Vic said as he waved a hand at Mac and turned to look at him. "No rocky road."

"Well, yeah." Mac shrugged. "But that's not what I was going to say. You're right, you're not my servant. And you do a lot more for me than I probably deserve. And I never thanked you for all the time and care you've given me here."

Vic shook his head and raised both hands in an attempt to fend off the power of the emotion that was building in Mac's eyes. "You did thank me, earlier. Besides, you don't have to thank me."

"I know I don't," Mac said leveling a serious look at Vic. "I know you do things without ever expecting to be thanked. I don't really get that." Mac displayed a slight, puzzled smile. "But that's the way you are." He glanced away for a moment before he continued. "If I never showed any gratitude for all the things you do for me, and feel for me... you'd probably just... do more."

"You're worth it," Vic said quietly. "You've given me a life that's... well... That's _it_ really. You've given me a _real_ life."

Mac nodded, a faint acknowledging smile moved his lips. "Me too. That's why you deserve to hear this." He suddenly shook himself like an athlete preparing for a race. "And I should have the guts to tell you." He paused again, took a deep breath and planted his feet. "If things were normal." He raised a hand in a dismissive wave. "Your word not mine." Then he dipped his head sheepishly. "Maybe I should say if _I_ were normal." He cleared his throat and looked squarely at Vic. "I'd ask _you_ to marry me." 

Vic was silent for a long moment. "You mean that?"

"I said it didn't I?" His tone carried just how much it had cost him, and a plea not to be made to say it again.

Vic wanted to rush to him and take him in his arms, but was afraid that Mac would shove him away. There was a tangible embarrassment between them now. As much as Vic wanted to hug, kiss and let his hands show the emotion that welled in him, a physical display might overwhelm Mac and make things even more uncomfortable. 

Vic wasn't sure what to say, but he knew that Mac needed to hear that he understood what a struggle it had been for him to utter each word. There had to be some way to tell him how much the act meant. But even that might be too volatile an admission at this moment. 

He looked at Mac and could see that he was equally uncertain about what to do next. Finally, Vic decided to use the same simple words that Mac had spoken earlier. These words had caused a rush of love and pride in him that he was with, in every way, this funny, irritating, lovable, frustrating and totally remarkable man, Mac Ramsey.

"Thank you." His voice threatened to break, but he managed a smile. "Thank you, Mac."

* * *

TITLE: Section Six, Finale   
AUTHOR: LeFey   
FANDOM: Once A Thief   
PAIRING: Victor and Mac   
RATING: X, explicit sexual M/M scenes.   
DISCLAIMER: They belong to John Woo and Alliance Atlantic.   
STATUS: COMPLETE!   
FEEDBACK: Please, [email removed]   
THANKS: To Eve for her insightful Beta.   
SUMMARY: Vic and Mac go undercover with operatives from Section Six, the agencies sexual experts.   
ARCHIVE:RatB, The Agency   
---


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